The Truth Will Out Part Two
by dreamsofyesterday1
Summary: Part Eighteen of the Robyn series. LazytownForever Knight Crossover. Devastated after finding out the real identity of her father Robyn flees to Toronto where she meets a very interesting group of people. Rated T
1. Chapter 1

The Truth Will Out – Part Two

Part Eighteen of the Robyn series.

In foolish and devastating haste he had allowed three words to fall from his lips, words that now hung in the air underneath a torturous silence. Nothing he could say now or ever hope to say could take back those words or give him any hope of denying them. Filled with shame he looked to the person to whom he had let the words slip and bowed his head when her painfully expressive features displayed a contorted mixture of emotions; anger, shame and confusion mingled with regret and venomous accusation. Too frightened to see the same accusation in those equally expressive eyes he kept his head bowed though he knew that more had to be said.

Slowly, as if wound like a clockwork toy, the listener moved towards the speaker, their movements as graceful as a cloud passing through an empty sky. With deliberate gentleness she lifted the speaker's head forcing him to look at her. Fixing her eyes onto his she smiled a smile of unidentifiable emotion. So enthralled by this strange action was the speaker that he was caught completely off guard, before his mind could register what was happening the listener spat in his face. Wiping the spittle from his face and eyes he turned round and saw her moving away.

"Robyn, wait!" Sportacus called after the retreating figure. "Please, we need to talk."

This time Robyn didn't stop. She continued walking desperately hoping that he wouldn't follow, that he would leave her alone. Part of her wanted to return to him to hear what it was he evidently wanted to say but it was only a small part trapped in a whirlwind of emotions spinning ever faster towards total destruction. Through the haze filling her mind and clouding her judgement she heard him run towards her and then past her. Lifting her eyes to see where he had gone she saw him standing ahead of her and knew that she would be able to retreat no further. Refusing to look at him she stopped walking and waited for him to make his next move.

Sportacus clasped Robyn's shoulders gently but firmly in his hands. When she offered no resistance to being stopped he released one of her shoulders and tilted her chin with finger from his free hand. He wasn't surprised to see tears filling her eyes and sliding down he cheeks in silent motion. Keeping a grip on his own emotions he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her only for her to push him away.

"Don't touch me," Robyn whispered sharply.

Closing his eyes briefly Sportacus spoke, "Robyn, let me explain."

"What is there to explain? I would have thought that you sleeping with your sister needed very little explanation."

"I had no choice. It was the only way I could get her to leave town, it happened the first time she came here. We had an argument in the airship and she hit me. If I didn't do it she was going to hurt the kids."

"You've done it before haven't you?"

Sportacus turned away. He couldn't deny it. It had happened before, a long time ago but it had happened. Before becoming a hero he had fallen for Lily's tricks and crossed barriers not meant to be crossed. As much as he had wanted to stop it he'd become trapped by Lily's evil and tarnished beyond redemption. If it hadn't been for his witnessing just how low his sister could sink and how low he had sunk by comparison he would never have changed his life. Even though nearly twenty one years had passed he still felt bitterly ashamed of what he had done that day, of undoing all of the progress he had made.

Knowing the answer from Sportacus' actions Robyn lowered her head, "You slept with her, not once but twice. Do you have any idea how dirty that makes me feel?"

"I'm sorry Robyn,"

"Sorry? If you were sorry you would have told me long before now, before I knew who my mother was or even cared. You should have told me seventeen years ago when…when the man I thought was my father died."

"What was I supposed to say, 'Don't worry Robyn, your father isn't dead. He's standing right next to you. Yes, that's right, I'm your father'?"

"It would have done. It would have been better than letting me suffer for those fourteen years he was dead. You know, I think of you and I think of what Grigori did to Kit and I can see myself understanding what Kit was feeling. I can understand why he hit me."

Sportacus whirled round to face Robyn, "I am not like Grigori! I spent fourteen years bringing you up, never once did I abandon you."

"Not as an uncle but as a father and that is the worst kind of betrayal. Out of all the people I know and love in this world I looked up to you the most but now I see that despite your lofty declarations you are just as bad as her."

Shocked to silence by Robyn's words Sportacus did nothing to stop her nor did he call her back when she walked around him and carried on in the direction she had been heading before. What she had said was true and there was no denying it. He knew he had wronged her and wondered if he ever would have told her the truth if it hadn't been revealed that Robbie wasn't her father. Grasping on to one last tenuous hope that he might still salvage something between himself and Robyn he followed her. He had almost reached her when his crystal glowed.

Robyn heard the crystal's beeping and turned around, "Shouldn't you forget about following me and worry about what's going on in town?"

"I can't leave things like this between us."

"You have no choice. There is nothing more to be said between us."

"We have to try and fix things."

"We? I didn't lie to me for nearly twenty one years. I didn't let another man think that he was my father while you played uncle. And I certainly didn't tell you to let me suffer all those years while you sat back and watched. Don't try to turn any of what you did onto me! You lied to me; you pretended to be my uncle for all those years when you should have practiced what you preach and told me the truth. I hate you for that!"

"Robyn, don't do this."

"Drop dead! Go on! It's not like I'd miss you anyway! If you want to fix things between us do that, at least then I wouldn't have to tell anyone that I'm your bastard child." Robyn shouted with utter vehemence.

Deeply wounded by what Robyn had said Sportacus turned away with tears brimming in his eyes and ran towards town. He didn't see the tears rolling down Robyn's cheeks after she had unleashed whatever anger remained in her at him nor did he see her sink to the ground as she was pulled down by the sheer weight of her sorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Day had changed into night and night had changed again into day. Exhausted as his body was he kept running, kept searching for his missing love. There had been no sign of her for hours. On he ran stopping only to call her name in an ever increasing tone of desperation. After still no reply and running until it felt like his lungs might burst and his legs detach themselves from his body for the sake of freedom from their ceaseless torture, he let himself fall to the ground. He lay silent for some time before finally succumbing to the emotions he had fought so hard to hold back. Rolling himself onto his stomach he buried his face into the sweet smelling grass and wept.

Man after man, woman after woman they queued. No one seemed to move as they waited at the desk for a member of staff to arrive. Every now and then a flash of red would appear only to vanish in the blink of an eye. Throats grumbled and bellies rumbled as the clock chimed the hour. Those waiting in the queue envied those that had stuck to their beds tucked up in sweet slumber while they, they waited for something that seemed as if it would never come. When what the people sought had finally arrived their wait was not yet over, they watched helplessly as the woman in the red shirt made herself busy arranging her desk before acknowledging the queue that rested in front of her.

"Next customer please." The woman droned as if she had been put out by the queue's presence.

And so the customers filed forward one by one to be seen to. Some smiled sweetly at the woman out of nothing more than good manners while others frowned at her and threatened to lodge a complaint with the Airport, her employer. None could say that they had received service like that before at the supposedly world renowned Greentown Airport, normally it was of a much lower standard.

Making her way over to the desk once she had reached the front of the queue a woman stood in front of it and waited to be acknowledged. She leant heavily on her crutch as her tired legs began to ache. When the woman behind the desk did finally look at her it was with a look of utter contempt.

"Name please," The woman sighed.

"Robyn…Robyn Kitchlovsky." Came a strained reply.

Distant voices called to him but he ignored them. He wasn't ready to be summoned back to the real world from the world of dreams that he had slipped into in his exhaustion. The real world was too painful for him, it would force him to face up to what was happening, to the fact his love was missing and that he had failed to find her.

Again the voices called to him but still he kept his face buried in the sweet smelling grass of the fields around him. His eyes opened when the smell brought back memories of him and his love lying side by side as they looked up at the sky or sat at opposite ends of a luxuriously soft blanket enjoying a picnic. Closing his eyes again he fought back the bitter sting of threatening tears. Pushing himself up shakily with his hands he moved himself into a sitting position and looked around.

In the distance he could see two men walking towards him across the fields he had searched tirelessly just hours before. Their uniforms were clearly visible underneath the warm afternoon sun and he knew that whatever news they had come to give him wasn't good. As they drew even closer he could see their faces and the grim masks projected upon them. With deep foreboding he stood up and waited for them to draw close enough so that he could hear what they had to say.

"Mr Kitchlovsky?" One of the police officers asked when they had come up level with Kit.

"That's me." Kit replied trying not to show just how apprehensive he was at the sight of the two officers in front of him.

"I'm Sergeant Phillips and this is my colleague Sergeant Pembry. We're from the Greentown Police force."

Kit nodded, "Have you found her yet?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. None of the other police forces in the area have had any luck either I'm afraid."

"She can't have just disappeared."

"We understand that sir, do you have a photograph of Robyn that we could circulate around premises to see if anyone recognises her."

Kit nodded and pulled his wallet from his pocket. Opening it he pulled out a photo which he hoped would prove useful. As he studied the photo he could feel tears pricking at his eyes again. Fighting back his emotions once more he handed the photo to Sergeant Pembry and frowned in concern when the sergeant started after looking at it.

"What the devil is the matter with you, John?" Sergeant Phillips asked noticing this rather unusual reaction to a photograph.

Sergeant Pembry ran a hand across his sweating brow before looking up at his colleague, "Nothing, well, it sounds weird but I dreamt about this woman a few months ago."

"Really?"

"Yes. No offence, Mr Kitchlovsky, but I shot her. It was an accident I promise."

Kit shook his head, "It's no problem. It was a dream after all. Could I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead."

"She didn't kill you by any chance did she?"

"Erm…yes…yes she did. How do you know?"

"I'm psychic."

There she stood in the middle of the bustling departure lounge. In her hand she held the ticket for her flight. Something at the back of mind told her that she shouldn't be doing this but she ignored it. She had to get away, she had to go to a place where no one knew her, knew what had happened and knew that she was the bastard child of a man she had loved as a father before she knew the truth. Looking up as her flight number was called out she took a deep breath and headed for the plane.

This was the only way.


	3. Chapter 3

Detective Nicholas Knight sat on his sofa and looked about his comfortable and yet lonely surroundings. There had been times when he had thought of moving on but there were times when it seemed that there was too much to leave behind. One of those things was his dear friend Doctor Natalie Lambert, a woman that had promised everything to find a cure for that which afflicted him. A part of him knew that there was no cure but he wouldn't let that part win, there had to be something out there that could help him. He knew that finding it wouldn't be easy but with enough time it would be found, time was something he had a lot of.

Pushing these all too familiar thoughts from his mind he got up from his couch and walked over to his refrigerator. Opening one of the two polished black doors concealing the barrenness within he pulled out a green bottle containing ruby coloured liquid. Shutting the door he had opened he went over to a cupboard in his small and rarely used kitchenette and pulled a wine glass from it. Uncorking the bottle with his teeth he carefully poured the liquid rested within it into his glass. After the glass had been filled halfway he placed it onto a counter before corking the bottle and putting it back where it belonged. This little job out of the way he returned to the counter and his glass.

He stared at the ruby liquid within and could almost feel it rolling down his tongue. It made his thirst increase and the smell was almost too tempting for him to abstain from drinking what was within the glass. Lifting the glass to his lips he took one sip, then another and another until it was empty. Guilt began to tug at him as he placed the glass into the sink. That thing that rested inside him had once again overridden everything he'd worked for. Even though it was too easy to give in to temptation he had thought that all his work with Natalie had given him more control. Instead he had let it slip through his fingers like fine silk without the slightest care until the deed had been done. A cure would never be found as long as he allowed these slips in control to happen and he knew that he and only he would be to blame.

Turning his mind from the dark path his thoughts were following once again he looked up at the sun shaped clock he had hung on the wall he noticed that it was almost time for him to leave. As he put on his shoulder holster he wondered what awaited him at the station. Life as a homicide cop was interesting as well as varied and he knew all too well the danger involved in it. In the years that he and his partner had worked together he recalled more than one occasion that they had been shot at and attacked.

Pulling his favourite black leather jacket from the coat stand, Nick walked over to the elevator and pushed the button to go down. The sun had handed its immortal throne over to the moon as it sought other parts of the earth to lighten and warm making it safe for him to leave for work. He looked up as he left the old abandoned warehouse that he had made his home and smiled as the cool night air touched his skin. Its caress was soft and soothed away his troubles, on a night like this it almost felt as if he could fly to work.

Aware that his time was running short he got into his turquoise 1962 Cadillac, something more precious to him than any of his other possessions. Leaning back against the driver's seat he started the car and smiled as the engine roared into life. Its purr was like a sweet song sung only to him as he drove it onto the road.

Tonight was different to any other night; he had to pick up his partner Detective Donald Schanke as his friend's car had broken down. It had been an unwelcome occurrence to all concerned but Nick couldn't deny the fact that by doing this he could talk Schanke into giving the Caddie a wash. It was one of the things he liked about his partner, no matter when he asked he could always be assured that his partner would never refuse an opportunity to wash the Caddie. The job was always one done well and done by a man who had an equal appreciation for the beauty of Nick's highly prized vehicle.

Pulling up outside Schanke's house Nick was pleased to see his partner leave the house immediately. After Schanke had settled himself in the passenger seat and the usual greetings had been done and over with, Nick started up the car again and drove off.

Someone was following her. She knew they had been following her ever since she'd gotten off the plane. Lost in this unfamiliar city she hadn't known who to turn to for help or whether anyone would help her. All she'd been able to do and could do was to keep moving in the hope that she might lose her follower in a crowd or a public place. So far she had found neither of the two and she was beginning to feel a desperate need to either shake them off or stop walking and face them. Even though the latter was far from ideal she would know who it was that had chosen her as a target and dispel her curiosity fuelled fears.

Reaching the point where her curiosity would lead her to stop walking away from her follower Robyn looked for any signs that would lead her to somewhere where she might yet lose them. As yet her shadow had made no attempt to attack her but her senses told her that it was a situation that would soon change. Time wasn't on her side and she knew that she would have no choice but to give in to her curiosity and face her fears. Whoever this person was she couldn't sense them as she could other people and the dreadful thought crossed her mind that a Watcher had chosen to take advantage of her being alone and vulnerable in a city where no one knew her or even knew she existed, it was the perfect situation for the Judges.

Seeing no other choice or way out Robyn once again took fate into her hands and turned sharply into a rain soaked alleyway. No other people were there apart from her and her shadow, no other people could get hurt. Slowly she turned around to face the person that had followed her for all this time.

When she saw who it was her eyes opened wide with fear and she said only one word, "Cain."

A white toothy smile shone out in the darkness in response.

Kit walked into the house and sat down on the sofa. His eyes drifted over to Robbie who was sitting despondently in his favourite chair. Anger at the despicable nature of the man's deeds still burned within him but sympathy for what he had to be going through cooled that fire. It was obvious to him that Robbie blamed himself for Robyn's disappearance and took every dead end in the search for her worse than everyone else. Looking deep within himself he tried to find some words of comfort for the man that he had once loved and respected as a father, after some searching he found some.

"Robbie," Kit began getting the man's attention, "I'm sorry for what I said, for what I did."

"You shouldn't be. I deserved it."

"Even so, I shouldn't have reacted like that. Perhaps I would have been more use if I'd supported you rather than being so quick to bit your head off. Maybe if I'd used my head instead of my mouth Robyn would still be here."

"This isn't your fault, Kit. I did this. I was the one that told her I wasn't her father. I was the one that ignored Doctor Malone when he gave me advice I couldn't afford to ignore. Because of me she's gone and she might be…she might be…"

"We'll find her Robbie and she'll be ok, you remember that."

Blue flashing lights echoed off of the white washed walls lining the alleyway. Police tape had been pulled across the entrance and exit to make sure that prying eyes were kept behind the lines and out of the way of the police officers patrolling the scene. A plastic tarp covered the body of a young woman lying face down on the rain soaked floor of the alley. No one yet knew her identity but the death she had suffered had been brutal.


	4. Chapter 4

Schanke _hated_ nights like this. A harsh wind blew through the alleyway its coldness biting at him even through his coat. It had stopped raining but there was more yet to come as dark clouds continued to loom over the city ready to drop the remainder of their bounty. On nights like this he wanted to be sat at home in his favourite chair with his slippers on and a newspaper in his hands or laying in bed with a steaming cup of cocoa by his side and his favourite show 'I dream of Jeannie' on the television, not standing in a freezing cold alleyway next to a body of a woman that had not only been murdered but brutalised.

"Ok, so what have we got, Nat?" Schanke asked Natalie Lambert who was the resident coroner on the scene.

"It's a nasty one. I'd say she was stabbed at least fifty times with each stab wound in rapid succession to the other. Whoever did it certainly knew what they were doing and enjoyed doing it. As to age I'd put her at early to mid twenties." Natalie explained after she finished her preliminary examination of the body.

"Thanks, Nat." Schanke said with a nod before turning around and catching sight of his partner, "Nick! Get away from that dumpster! We've got invisible witnesses to question!"

Nick didn't answer.

All of Nick's attention was focussed on something he had spotted underneath the dumpster, it was something that he'd never seen underneath a dumpster before and was almost afraid to believe what his eyes were telling him. Kneeling down on the wet ground he slowly reached out a hand and gingerly brushed it across what his eyes were telling him he saw. He pulled his hand back suddenly when he felt that the object was warm to his touch.

Instinct kicked in as Nick stood up and turning to face his partner shouted, "We have something here!"

Wasting no time at all Schanke ran over to where Nick was standing and helped him push the dumpster out of the way with the assistance of a couple of uniforms that had heard the shout too. After several pushes the dumpster moved awkwardly as the men pushed it over to the other side of the alleyway. Each man turned around with bated breath to see what Nick had uncovered, when their eyes fell on the limp form of a woman that had been badly beaten their breath was released in gasps and exclamations.

Taking control of the situation Natalie swung into action. Kneeling down beside the woman she felt for life signs and after finding a pulse, albeit a weak one ordered one of the uniforms to radio for an ambulance. With quick eyes and wits she scoured the body, it didn't take her long to notice that one of the woman's cheeks had been badly slashed and one of her wrists cut. Knowing that time was short she applied pressure to the woman's wrist and hoped that they had found her in time to replace the blood that she had lost, blood that had blended in with that of the body lying ignored at the mouth of the alleyway and the rain that had washed down in between the whitewashed walls of buildings unused to seeing such violent acts in their territory.

In silence known only to those grieving for a lost one he sat, a photograph resting in his hands that he had never treasured so much until now. Bitter tears lent a shine to his eyes that uncovered his inner emotions to the outside world as he looked at the photo and the smile on her face, a smile that he would never see directed at him again. The times they had shared stung him as they drifted into his mind in the forms of memories he had always wanted to keep but because of his own selfish folly he was now condemned to relive those memories whenever he heard her name or saw something that belonged to her and could never shake them off. Time had become unimportant to him as he had sat there staring at a picture of what he had had and what he had so easily thrown away.

It was in this state of sanctimonious melancholy that he had rested for hours that had slipped into days and days that were wearing on towards being weeks. Sleep had become a stranger to him as languor had become his bedfellow pushing out his need to move. Blisters had broken out on his hands under the continuous pressure of their desperate grasp upon that last image, that last smile that he would ever see. As immovable as a rock he stayed in this state of almost death like stillness as the world slipped by him without the slightest hindrance to his mourning.

Lost in realms of unconscious sleep she lay in the hospital bed. Awareness brushed her with its gentle hand lending her the ability to hear all that was around her but kept her from opening her eyes. Voices filled her ears but she couldn't respond to them, there were no words that came to her mouth nor did she have the strength to say any. In this state she rested some time before awareness lent her a second touch with its hand which allowed her to awaken, albeit, slowly. As her eyes began to flutter and her lids lifted the timbre of the voices increased. Out of the chaos that seemed to erupt as consciousness became once again instilled in her body she heard one voice, that one voice brushed against her ears like a delicate whisper and its song was beautiful.

"Schanke, find a doctor and get him to tell us whether she can talk to us yet." Nick requested looking at his partner.

Schanke exhaled in frustration before replying, "Why do I always have to do the errands?"

"Because I ask you first."

"Ok, ok. I'll do it then I'm going for a cigarette, you can question her."

"Fair deal I suppose Schanke," Nick sighed.

"Good, see you later." Schanke smiled before leaving the room.

Shaking his head Nick waited patiently for a doctor to give him the go ahead to question the woman lying in the bed in front of him. It was a strong possibility that she was an eye witness to the murder which made her paramount to the investigation. A chance still rested that she was also a suspect but from what he had seen that night it was highly unlikely. Doctors had found slight paralysis in the left side of the girl's body but until they knew who she was they were unable to tell whether it was a recent development or something that she had had for some time. Only time and more tests would tell.

Nick's thoughts were disturbed by a barely audible sigh which he knew to have come from his long dormant charge. Looking over at her he noticed her beginning to stir from the sleep that had kept her shrouded from the outside world. Slowly he walked over to her, his footsteps as quiet as the sigh that had escaped from her unspoilt lips. Standing beside her he let his eyes wander over her as they studied her features. As he looked at her his sharp eyes caught a similarity to a woman that he had known a long time ago and had sworn to protect from all evils, his sister.

Many years had passed by since she had passed away and he knew that this woman could not be her but the resemblance was uncanny. Spurred on by a sensation of loneliness for his fallen sister he took one of the woman's hands in his and clasped it gently. Closing his eyes he revelled in the warmth and softness of the untarnished flesh that covered her palm and fingers.

Forming an image of his sister in his mind he whispered, "Fleur. Ma soeur. Ma coeur. Je t'aime et je suis désolé."

"Elle pardonner toi." Came a completely unexpected reply to Nick's words causing him to look down at the woman in surprise, "Je m'appelle Robyn. Enchanté heureux de vois connaître."

"Pleased to meet you too," Nick replied no less surprised then before.


	5. Chapter 5

A pair of brown eyes watched the seventh sun rise signalling the dawn of another day; another day that would be full of wasted hope, another day that would bring him yet more pain adding to the agony he already felt, another day that would end with tears falling from those eyes that wished they could behold the face of their love once more and rolling down cheeks that held the pallor of natural uncoloured chalk. How he longed for his eyes to fall on those of his lover, how his lips ached to meet with hers once again in a sweet embrace that he would never wish to end. How he longed for one sunset that would lead him to her and banish the fears that lay heavily on his heart. Fate had dealt him a cruel hand which he yearned for the power to change so that his eyes and lips might once again fall upon those of his lover in never ending union.

Whether she was alive or dead he didn't know. Where she was he couldn't tell. Still no clues as to her whereabouts had been uncovered lending him nothing but the frail hope that she might still be found. As each sun set that hope faded a little more and his mind tortured him with the possibilities of what might have happened to her. Of all of those that had kept him from his bed was the fear that she was lying dead by her own hand in a place where no one would find her, an action brought on by what she had learned of her father. On those occasions when the visions had permeated his tenuous sleep his dreams had led him to her; he would reach out and touch her cheek only for it to crumble to dust underneath his fingers. He would wake up weeping with the feel of her ashen cheek still fresh on his sweating skin and the image of her eternally sleeping body burnt into his memory.

It was one of these dreams that had stirred him from his repose and led him to the window to watch the seventh sun rise. As the sun mounted its golden passage in the sky it lent warmth to his unshaved cheeks that had been wetted with unconscious tears. Today was a new day and today he would continue his ceaseless searching, he would continue every day until he found her or until the grief that scarred his heart led it to beat its last. Either way he would never tire of searching, he wouldn't let himself give in ever when it became impossible for him to find her. If he couldn't find her in the world they had shared together he would find her in the next, this he now swore to the rising sun and all those that it shone upon.

Closing her eyes she pictured him; she pictured his short, spiky brown hair and his goateed chin. She pictured his infectious smile and heard his equally infectious laugh ringing in her ears. A smile touched her lips as his sharp brown eyes sent a shiver of desire down her spine, a look that never failed to have that affect on her. It was a look that was always a prelude to his brushing his lips against hers in a tender but all too short embrace. That embrace she missed more than any other, though she couldn't deny that it was her desperate desire to escape everything she knew and all those that knew her that had separated her from him.

Hearing a sound upstairs Robyn tried to lighten the darkness of her morose mood for her freshly awakened host. His activity told her that the sun wouldn't be long setting as it fell below the blanket of darkness. Time was that she would join it in its slumber but sleep had evaded her as persistently as peace of mind. Cain's attack had been ferocious both on her and the woman he had killed; the bandage wrapped securely about her wrist was the testament to what she had suffered at his hands. Beneath the shelter of her clothes bruises had shadowed her ivory skin in blotches of black and purple. Upon her cheek was a wound inflicted by the razor sharp blade used to end the life of another. It was uncertain whether the blade would leave a permanent mark or one that would fade with the fullness of time.

"Morning Robyn," A voice said from behind her stirring her from her thoughts.

Robyn turned round to see Nick, "Evening. Good sleep?"

"It was just as it as it normally is, did you sleep?"

"No," Robyn replied shaking her head, "I haven't tried either."

Nick frowned and sat beside Robyn on the couch, "How come?"

"Because I know what Cain's capable of. Asleep or awake I can sense him but I can't act when I'm asleep."

"You're safe here, he can't get to you. That's why I'm letting you stay here rather then putting you in a hotel under guard."

"You might think so but there's nowhere Cain can't infiltrate, even here. If there's a way he'll find it. You also can't protect me twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Even you being what you are doesn't make me entirely safe."

Nick nodded his expression grim, "I see what you mean. There is another place you can stay which would offer more protection than here but I can't guarantee your safety when it comes to the people that stay there. I'll also need to call in an old favour, I doubt you'll be welcome but the owner of the place owes me and he never leaves debts unpaid."

"Take me there."

Kit sat down on the ground his feet aching from their seemingly endless exertion. For hours he had searched but still to no avail. His heart sunk at yet another failed search, there wasn't a direction he hadn't covered or a mile he hadn't walked in some hope of finding her. Like him the police had found nothing which dealt a double blow to his ever failing grasp on the hope that he might one day see Robyn again. Looking over his shoulder he could see the lake glimmering in the falling sun behind him. Plans had been made for the lake to be dredged, plans that lay heavy on his heart. He didn't know what he would do if the police found her beneath the shimmering waves.

Resigning himself to another failure Kit got up, instead of heading for home he walked over to the lake. Sitting on its banks he stared blankly at the still water and the sunset beyond it. Tears pricked his eyes when he remembered the times that he would sit with her by the lake and they would watch the sunset together. Other times they'd swim until the stars shone brightly in the sky. With the moon high in the night sky they'd lay on their backs, their heads touching as their eyes traced the sky looking for shapes in the stars.

Sighing deeply he laid himself down on the grass that spread across the banks of the lake. Closing his eyes he could almost feel her head resting against his. Inhaling deeply through his nose as the cool night air brushed against his weary face he could almost smell the sweet perfume of her hair and the intoxicating scent of her body. With these sensations washing over him he fell into sweet sleep as the day's exertions caught up with him.

Walking through the darkness a figure headed towards the prone sleeper their footfalls silent on the soft ground. Standing beside the sleeper they bent down resting their weight on one knee as they reached a hand into the jacket they were wearing. Slowly they pulled an envelope from a pocket in the inside of their jacket and with almost unmatchable ease slipped the envelope into the pocket of the person sleeping on the ground in front of them.

With a smile and a slight chuckle the person was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Never had he felt like this, never had he suffered so under the weight of his own convictions or felt such an ache around his heart. Looking around the room he wondered if anything would ever be the same again after he had questioned that which should never have been questioned. What he had done was beyond – way beyond redemption and he had only himself to blame for that. It was true that he hadn't acted entirely alone but the wrongdoing had been his and his alone. For want of a better phrase or hindsight he had been stupid, beyond stupid, in doing what he had done. Now she had disappeared and it was entirely his fault, he knew it.

For days his mind had tormented him with possibilities of what might have happened to her, all he could hope that she was safe and well in good hands but he knew the world well enough to know that it was an empty hope. A hope as empty as the promise he had made to her that he would always be with her and would never leave her, as empty as the promise he had made when he had told her that nothing would change after she'd been in her first coma. All he'd ever done was hurt her; now that he had been proved not to be her father his transgressions against her seemed much worse in their magnitude.

Since her disappearance he hadn't been the only one suffering. Every morning he would watch as Kit left the house, each day he looked a little more worn down than the last. For hours he would sit watching the clock as minutes ground by like hours and hours like days until Kit would return. Each evening his eyes would close as he saw the bleak look covering the features of a man falling apart at the seams with worry in his heart, worry that he had inflicted through his thoughtless actions.

Mumbles echoed in silent halls occupied only by shadows. Eyes followed him as he marched through marble doorways flanked by his two comrades, blind to the hateful looks of the people around them. No fear touched their hearts of what was to come. Hard as flint and cold as iron they remained defiant. Hecklers jeered at them from the protection of the crowds that had filled the room since their arrival but none of their words did anything to shake the resolve of those they wanted so desperately to intimidate. Many of those that wanted to strike fear of what was to come into the hearts of those walking passed them found their plans backfiring when they ended up quaking in their boots upon receiving black looks from the trio. Even though their numbers were greater they couldn't refrain from letting fear overcome them and they retreated from the hall.

Triumphant despite their dreaded fate they continued on through the halls of marble that had become their prison. Their footsteps resounded off the walls in echoes that were terminated by the continuous whispers all around them. As yet no one had made a move to physically attack them but even if they did it would do them no harm, they were strong enough to fend off even the most violent of attacks. It was inevitable that there would be a time when they would have to defend themselves against the mob that surrounded them. The time when they would meet their fate was soon at hand, it hung in the air like a foul miasma that began to choke their hopes of escaping unscathed.

Suddenly the halls of marble they had passed through came to end. A door was held open by two men that looked rougher than that which they were holding. Beyond the door lay a courtyard with three stakes stuck firmly in the ground. Standing as firmly as the stakes were six men all holding rope in their hands ready to bind their captives to what was sure to be their fateful demise. Raising their eyes skyward they noticed that the sun would soon be climbing to its eternal throne to shine over the world, this did not bode well for any of them. Faced with their fate their hearts sunk into their shoes and long ignored anxiety began to fracture their resolve but on the outside they still remained as defiant as ever, showing weakness now would be the end of them. It would only lead to more trouble which would make their deaths all the more painful.

Many years spent in one of the greatest armies the world had ever seen had given him instincts that told him that he had only two options open to him if he was going to get himself and his two comrades out alive, fight or flight. Looking about him with his razor sharp, ice cold eyes and analysing the situation with his shrewd brain it soon became clear to him that fighting was not an option. Even with his sheer physical prowess and that of his comrades it was more than likely that would eventually be overcome by the sheer numbers of those around them or would be driven out into the rapidly brightening courtyard. As insulting as it was there was only one other choice, he and his comrades had to run.

With one silent sign to those that had been captured with him he turned quickly on his heel. As he had suspected the crowd surged forward forcing him to rip out the throats of those closest to attack him. Blood poured forth onto the floor from those he and his comrades had immobilised which held back any further attacks for only a matter of seconds but it was enough time for them to make some headway back through the halls of marble.

People were cut down like wheat as they fought their way through crowds of living and dead alike. For a time they felt confident that they would make their way out but it was only short lived, the crowd surged again using their sheer numbers to grab at those they wanted to punish. Overwhelmed by those that had recovered their wits and bellies enough to re-launch their attack they found themselves dragged like rabid dogs back to where they were to meet their fate. No matter how much they struggled against the countless hands that held them fast they couldn't break free. As they were drawn closer to the door of the courtyard they began to get more desperate, whether they showed any weakness now or not it didn't matter, they had lost.

Relinquishing themselves to the dark hand of fate they allowed themselves to be carried out. No further struggles were wrought on those that held them bound like animals. Before any of them could make any further move they were thrown to the ground in the courtyard. Screams tried to fight their way through tightly closed lips as the sun made their skin begin to smoulder under its murderous rays. Trying to push away their pain they struggled against the ropes that were being tied about their bodies, bonds that would see the end of them. Time was rapidly running out as they used whatever energy they had left to still the hand of fate.

"What happened?" Robyn's delicate voice broke through Nick's reverie.

Nick jolted back into the present and turned his head to look at Robyn, "We escaped, it was a narrow escape and to this day I'm still not certain how we did it."

"It must have been terrible."

"It was, I never thought I'd come that close to dying." Nick paused and a thoughtful expression crossed his face, "How can you read my thoughts like that?"

Robyn shrugged, "It's just something I can do, I don't do it unless I can help it but you did look rather far away."

"That's ok. We're here at least. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I have no choice; it's the only way I'll be protected so I have to go in."

Nick nodded and turned off the engine. Getting out of the car he grabbed Robyn's crutch from the back seat before going round to the passenger side and helping her out. When he was sure that she wouldn't topple over he let her go. Smiling slightly he let her go ahead of him as locked up the Caddie. This done he caught up with her, before opening the doors to the club he checked one final time that she wanted to do this. Receiving her assent he pulled open the polished silver doors and let her enter, looking behind him at the streets all around he was sure he could feel something. After a few moments he put it down to just being his imagination.

Stormy blue eyes smiled in silent victory, he had located her. Now all he had to do was wait.


	7. Chapter 7

Immovable as stone yet gentle as a feather when the mood took him he stood surrounded by candles in his private rooms away from the denizens of the night that frequented the darkness of a club that he knew well, very well. In one hand he held a glass of ruby red liquid, sustenance enough for he that had lived so long and seen so much. Balanced expertly in his other hand was a book that had seen many years but nowhere near as many years as him but it was close enough. Scanning the pages with his ice cold eyes, the same eyes that read the words printed delicately upon the yellowing paper, his attention was temporarily diverted by the distant sound of a door opening and closing some way down the corridor from his rooms. Briefly he rolled his interrupted eyes; it seemed that no matter where he went peace would never find him, even here in his sanctuary it was chased away by the cruelness of time or the importunities of the outside world. Such now was this interruption pressing harshly upon him as the final barrier between him and solitude was broken.

Looking up towards the door to his quarters he beheld the only person that would dare interrupt him here. To his slight satisfaction he noticed the golden features on that unspoilt face flinch as his guest realised what they had done but he didn't push it. Inaudibly he sighed as he placed the book on an end table that had stood by his side all evening. Looking back up at his visitor he raised a questioning eyebrow indicating that he was waiting for an explanation for this uninvited invitation into what was his most valued possession, privacy. Once again his satisfaction was piqued when his guest had accurately interpreted his prompt; it seemed that the evening was looking up. He did so hate it when he had to start a conversation for want of an explanation that he didn't need to give.

Nick tried to find the right way of asking his host for help, once his tongue had loosened itself from the grip of silence he came right out with it.

"LaCroix, I've brought a friend with me, she needs somewhere to stay. Someone's after her and she'll be better protected here than she will be at the loft."

"Nicholas, I am not in the habit of taking in waifs and strays. Nor am I a babysitter for the disenfranchised, you know full well…" LaCroix's rebuke fell to silence as his eyes fell on a woman that had just walked into the room.

A knowing look passed over Nick's features, "She looks like her doesn't she."

LaCroix looked to Nick then back to the woman his expression caught in that of utter confusion, "This…this can't be. It isn't…she isn't…"

"I'm Robyn," The woman said at last her voice sounding to him like the song of angels, "I understand your reluctance to offer me shelter, I know how much you value your privacy. Nick, perhaps we ought to leave Mr LaCroix alone."

"Not at all, my dear," LaCroix replied recovering his senses, "I'm sure that I can make some arrangement for you. After all I believe that I am indebted to Nicholas, a debt that he should like to see paid off as much as I would."

"Thank you, that's very kind."

LaCroix shook his head dismissively before looking at Nick with an expression in his eyes that he knew could not be misinterpreted.

As fine as the thinnest fabric, awareness slipped gently into his mind. His eyes opened as if for the first time and he looked about him. Everything around him looked familiar and yet strange, as if he were looking through someone else's eyes. Shaking his head subconsciously the mist about his mind seemed to clear slightly assuring him that the eyes he was looking through were his own as were his surroundings. With the gentle touch of dawning awareness came a sharp stab of pain which almost made him cry out in spite of himself. His hands burned as if they were on fire, looking down sharply he could see what had made them so painful.

Sores had broken out on his skin where he had been holding the photo frame in a death like grip. Painful as he knew it would be he had to release the frame before further damage was inflicted to his flesh. Carefully he peeled one hand away then he used that hand to release the photo frame from the grip of his other hand. This action did not make the burning cease nor did it lessen it but it gave him the freedom to rinse his hands and attempt to tend to his wounds.

Like a machine whose joints had been bitten into by the cruel decay of rust, he moved stiffly. His limbs spasmed as the muscles within them revolted against being used after being neglected for so long. He had no idea how long he had been sitting nor did he for this moment care, all he wanted to do was ease the burning sensation that held his hands in the grip of pain.

Opening the door to the bathroom with his shoulder he stepped inside. Walking over to the sink he struggled to turn the taps on but eventually his efforts paid off as water spilled out of them. Gingerly he placed his hands underneath the cool water, at first his wounds stung but that soon subsided into relief as the burning sensation cooled. Closing his sleep filled eyes he remembered why he had sat holding the photo for so long, pain had clouded his memory but now it returned in stark realism. She was gone and it was he that had pushed her away.

Shame filled him when he realised that he had yet again let her down, instead of going after her or trying to find her he had sat moping around. She had been right about what she'd said to him, her words had held meaning beyond his comprehension at the time but he knew now that she had spoken the truth; he had lied to her, he had let her down, he was just like the sister he had always claimed to hate. As bitter as the taste of the truth was upon his tongue he couldn't deny that she had a right to hate him, he didn't expect anything less.

All he could now was to try to mend the rift he had made between them in the hope that she might acknowledge him as her father. For too long he had hidden behind the veil of being her uncle but now it was time to face that which he had denied all these years, he was her father.

Seated in a luxuriously soft chair Robyn watched what seemed to be a tense exchange between her new host and her friend. Out of respect for their right to privacy she refrained from letting her mind wander, instead she tried to work out why Cain had attempted to kill her. She had thought that death had changed him, had made him see the error of his ways but she now knew that it had been a mistake for her to trust what she had seen. With his mind back in the diseased state it had been in upon their first meeting she was in danger, he was looking for vengeance.

It dawned on her suddenly that he hadn't wanted to kill her, that he had just wanted to return the favour she had done him in assisting his suicide with her words meant only in truth not spite. In his own sick sense Cain had made a connection with her than was more dangerous than ever before. He had set himself a mission to make sure that she fell to her own hand as he had done, each attack she knew would lead her closer to fulfilling his wish. Now she knew what he wanted from her she knew that she would never be without him, wherever she went he would follow until his wish had been fulfilled.


	8. Chapter 8

His body ached in tense anticipation of morning. Darkness still held sway over the world, keeping the sun subdued beneath its impenetrable blanket. Stars were still spread thinly across the sky but as sure as the earth would turn and turn again they would return in their uncountable numbers. This night had brought him comfort he hadn't felt in days but it was a comfort that was short lived. He wanted the sun to rise so that he might see where he was walking in his search of her; he couldn't make himself walk in darkness as bitter as the hours he passed in endless steps. Some days it felt as if he'd walked around the earth three times while others it felt as if he'd not moved at all.

Closing his eyes briefly he looked deeply into his heart as his lips moved in silent prayer that he might find her, that she might still be safe somewhere. He prayed for a sign that she was alive, something that would rekindle his dwindling hope; something that would keep him going just that little bit longer. It seemed ironic that he was prostrating himself in front of forces he had never believed in, that he still held no belief in, but he was running rapidly out of options.

Opening his eyes once more he looked skyward, the sun was beginning to unfold its golden fingers bringing light to the world once more. With the light came warmth, warmth that banished the chill of the night from his body. Now it was time for him to turn his mind again to searching for her, something deep within his heart told him that his search would end today. With that knowledge came an ardent fear that today they would find her wrapped in the weeds that carpeted the bottom of the lake. That her body was to be placed in the cemetery that she had escaped so many times. If today was indeed the day that she was proved dead it would be the last day he ever walked the earth.

Already speed boats were zipping over the glassy waters of her watery grave. Divers were dropped into the water in a carefully constructed sequence designed so that nothing would be missed. Turning away from that lonely sight he walked aimlessly across fields filled with dew laden blades of grass of sapphire green. A breeze from the east warmed him with its gentle caress; it seemed to soothe away his troubles as it breathed fresh breath into his lungs infusing him with a new burst of hope. Turning back to look at the lake he defied the divers to find anything, they were wasting their time.

Eyes watched him as he drifted through hordes of gyrating bodies upon a dance floor almost full to capacity. He was all too aware of smiles gracing women's faces as they admired him, a young man in his physical prime. All of them wanted to taste his youth, to be seduced by one as predatory as he. Even those dancing with lovers of their own wanted him. Their arousal was so strong he could almost smell it and it began to strike his but there was only one woman he had an interest in. None of the others even came close to her. Only she knew what lay beneath the surface of his flawless looks, only she could see the ugliness that lay within him. Only she could affect him like no other. She had the power to tame him, to cool his anger.

Sitting on a raised stool by the bar he let his eyes wander over a tantalising rendition of a woman standing bare breasted with a Raven upon her slender fingers. A smile touched his lips as he could almost imagine her standing there instead with her long flowing hair of chestnut brown, her eyes bluer than a summer sky and her humble breasts rising and falling with every breath she took. That would be an image he could savour for a lifetime if not longer. It would be a prize he would pay anything to claim, she didn't have to be alive, even in death she would still have the same affect on him.

"Can I help you?" A strongly accented voice asked.

Looking up his eyes fell on a man standing on the other side of the bar, "Yes, I'm new in town and wondered if you'd be able to help me obtain some information."

"What kind of information?" The man replied suspiciously.

"Nothing of great importance, nothing I think you'd object to. I just want to know who owns this place and whether a woman was brought in earlier."

"You were wrong, the answers to both of those questions I will object to answering. I think it would be best if you leave."

A slow smile spread across his lips, "Don't play around with me, Miklos, if you tell me what I want to know I won't have to come back. It's as easy as that."

"I can't help you!" Miklos hissed before walking away.

Nobody turned their back on him, no one defied him. Those that dared died. It was as simple as that, it was what he had been taught by his mother and it was a lesson he had learnt well. Ready to teach the impudent whelp a lesson he stood up but two men wearing suits came into his line of sight. Knowing that he'd outstayed his welcome he decided it would be best for him to leave. There would be another time for him to once more attempt getting at Robyn, right now he couldn't risk being incapacitated or arrested. If that happened his chances of doing that which he wished to do would fall from under him. It would make his task all the harder, something he couldn't afford to have happen to him. Exhaling sharply he threw a black look in Miklos' direction before storming past both of the men in suits. Throwing open the polished silver doors of the club he stepped out into the arms of his lover, darkness. Slamming the doors shut behind him he looked up at the sign above them.

'The Raven,' he thought to himself with a smile, 'It won't protect you forever Robyn. When I'm through with you, you'll wish to live never more.'

Still nothing had been found of her, still nothing had been seen. Not even the glassy waters of the lake had seen her. Day was closing its eyes in readiness for night, in readiness for sleep until it would awaken again. His body cried out for rest but he would not rest this night, he would not seek sleep nor would he succumb to its sweet song. Even if it took the last breath in his lungs he would evade it. With sleep came dreams. Dreams of her, dreams of death, dreams of dreams lost in a dream that would leave him more desolate in his search for hope. Tonight the moon and stars would watch over him, keeping him company in his watch for something that would never come.

In an infusion of reds, oranges, yellows and pinks the sun painted its setting colours across the sky. Just as it had brought light and warmth to the earth it took it away as it enfolded its life giving hand once more drawing in its golden fingers into the palm of darkness. In its descent it drew its star filled blanket over itself and darkness descended upon the earth once more. With darkness came a chill wind which forced him to draw his jacket tightly around him. A sound like the rustling of leaves reached his ears as his arms encircled his jacket.

With burgeoning curiosity he loosened his grip on his jacket. With trembling fingers he reached into a pocket sewn on the inside. Fear tinted his curiosity as his nervous fingers brushed against something in the pocket he sought and with reluctance beyond anything he'd felt before he drew it out. It was an envelope, a plain white envelope with nothing written on it. Something told him that it was for him, that there was something inside it that would bring his tireless searching for his missing love to an end. Slowly he opened it with baited breath lest he should breathe onto it and make it crumble to dust just as she had done hundreds of times underneath his fingers. Now vulnerable to his searching eyes the contents of the envelope fell victim to his probing fingers, he pulled out two plane tickets and a small note handwritten in a hand that was unknown to him. His eyes read those words, words that brought tears to his eyes as their meaning sunk in.

'_Kit, _

_Robyn is alive. These tickets will take you to Toronto which is where you will find her. One is for you; the other is for her to bring her back home._

_Good luck and best wishes,_

_A Friend,_'


	9. Chapter 9

A tinge of mint mixed with the acidic scent of chemical fertiliser hung in the air blending with the memory of stale perfume. All around him smoke from discarded cigarettes left in well used ash trays rose into the air in whirls that glowed in the dim lighting of the empty dance floor. Looking around him it felt almost odd that he was the only one here, there were people hidden away in the silent warmth of the private quarters but only he was present in so lonely a place. He was left alone to gather glasses used by thoughtless people on trays to be put in the dishwasher behind the bar. After that he had to wipe the tables before returning to the bar to lavish it with his loving attention. When all these tasks had been completed he could allow himself to retire to the basement below for the day until night came again bringing with it the denizens he knew so well.

They were his people, his friends; some were his masters while others were his subordinates. They shared with him a gift only given to those worthy of it. For many years he had worked behind a bar owned by a woman that he had great personal loyalty for. For many years he had watched faces old and new come and go, each one changing with times that meant nothing to them. All of them at one time or another, young or old, thought of moving on; of taking themselves away from all that was around them and starting a new life that offered them new opportunities. Sadness touched him for a brief moment when he realised that his time would come too, when he would have to say goodbye to this life only to start another. Sometimes he found the whole rigmarole arduous, there was so much to be done these days; so many loose ends to tie up. It seemed that the longer he lived the smaller the world got. There were so few places he had been now, he thought of returning to his native Hungary; it had been so long since he'd last been there; he was almost scared to return for fear of what he might find left over from the harsh tides of time.

Quiet footsteps reached his ears and he tilted his head slightly to one side to discover the source. He could hear the staccato rhythm of a woman's high heels echoing along the street outside. As the heels came to a stop he could hear the main door of the club open with a squeak. The heels walked inside the club before the door was closed harshly. Now he looked up to see who had entered his silent domain.

His eyes glittered as they fell upon the figure of a woman wrapped in a long coat, her eyes were obscured by sun glasses but he still knew who she was. Abandoning his glass laden tray for the moment he walked towards her, his footsteps mingles with hers as she made her way down the steps. She smiled at him in her own unaffectionate way and handed him her coat. As he took it from her he returned her smile, a smile he could see reflected in the dark lenses of her sunglasses. The image was soon gone as she raised a hand encased in an elbow length glove of the finest silk and removed them. Her dark blue eyes fell on his as she looked at him.

"How has your week been, Miklos?" She asked her voice a soft purr against his ear.

Miklos shrugged, "Just like any other week although last night was different. How was Paris?"

"It was Paris." The woman remarked as if bored with the city, "What made last night different?"

"I'm sure Mr LaCroix will explain that, he's out the back if you want to see him."

As graceful and as poised as a Gazelle on the lonely plains of Africa she walked across the dance floor with the faintest amount of effort. Her sensitive ears picked up barely audible sounds emanating from the private quarters she had made her home in. A smile touched her lips as she heard a sorrowful yet enjoyable tune being played upon a violin almost as old as her. As she came to the last door separating the club from this private realm, far flung from the troubles of the world outside, she wondered at what her father had to speak to her about.

Pushing open the door she soon found out.

Hushed conversations echoed around him, their words meaning nothing to him as he sat alone in a room filled with people. He looked at his watch once, twice, a third time with growing impatience. He stared at it is if it could give him answers to all the questions in the world but despite all its promises was remaining mute. If only they would hurry up, if only they would live up to their so called reputation that in reality was as reliable as a fifteen year old newspaper article about a man who had lost a tooth biting into a stick of butter in a tabloid that only one person had ever read. He wanted to go to the service desk again, he wanted to speak to the woman who seemed to be so disinterested in her job as a customer service officer that she'd pack her bags and leave any minute, unfortunately he couldn't. Time was that policies had changed; she had no more control over flights than he had. All she would do was sit and sigh or say 'sorry sir, another five minutes'. The sad truth was that she'd used that line a total of eight times and he'd been waiting two hours for that golden five minutes to come when something was going to happen.

As if Moses had once again parted the red sea or Houdini had radically pulled off his last stunt without dying the announcement came, it was a miracle. Hundreds of feet bored beyond the capacity of life trudged over to the gate each mouth they belonged sighing in a mix of annoyance and relief. Finally they were getting somewhere. Finally the system seemed to be working. All they had to do now was endure the bitter slog from terminal to plane and then on from plane to terminal at the other end. For those lucky few that had no baggage the journey would be considerable shorter, they could begin to relax whereas their unlucky counterparts had to wait endlessly to see their luggage tossed about by louts no more sophisticated than shaved gorillas or to find out from some snotty nosed desk clerk, who couldn't care less, that their luggage had been 'misplaced'.

Oh the joy. It came again, that announcement read out by a woman who sounded as bored as they were. Tinny as it was it was sweet music to their ears. The gates opened and as their tickets were haphazardly ripped by men with stubby fingers that snatched their victims before thrusting them back to their owners they stepped out into the air of the night. All around them they could hear the scream of aeroplanes' engines mingled with the roar of courtesy coaches waiting to take them to their craft.

It seemed so pointless to him, the stress that people endured to go somewhere to relax, being shoved into a bus as if you were the grand prize at a cattle market and being treated like dirt by someone else's kids or people that had nothing better to do. Unlike them he wasn't on holiday, he wasn't going to go sightseeing or shopping in any of the fancy outlets. No, he was going to search for his missing love. He knew that Toronto was a big city and he hadn't the faintest idea where to start looking. All he could do was hope that he hadn't been sent on some wild goose chase by someone posing as a friend.

As he got off of the bus he considered turning back, telling the staff at the airport that he'd made a mistake but something called him on. It tickled his ears like a soft kiss upon his lips and grew until it made his head hurt. Over the noise of the engines he could hear her voice. Pushing himself forward he boarded the plane; he was going to find her no matter what.

"Janette," LaCroix said as the door to his quarters opened and admitted his daughter.

"LaCroix," Janette purred back in her French accented tones, "Miklos seemed to think that you had something to tell me."

"He was correct ma chéri, sit down a moment."

Janette did as she was asked. Cocking her well styled head to the side she waited for a further elaboration on what her father had told her so far, which was very little. She watched as he walked across the room and knocked on a door of the finest oak. Much to her barely concealed surprise a woman much younger than herself stepped from behind the door as it opened slowly. Looking at the woman was like looking at an echo of someone she had seen many years before and that no longer walked upon the great expanse of the earth.

LaCroix smiled briefly at Janette's surprise as he indicated the woman, "Janette, this is Robyn."


	10. Chapter 10

Lights covered in dust hung from the ceiling in a long corridor that seemed to stretch on forever. Shades forever scarred by mould reached over bulbs that had seen too much use. Occasional drops of water fell from rafters running along the ceiling peppered a floor upon which many feet had trodden. Rats hid in dark shadows keeping out of the way as they scurried up and down hoping to chance upon an insect or a morsel of food left behind by careless visitors. Unfortunately there was nothing for them save for each other or the occasional dropping.

It was down this corridor that he walked, his footsteps echoing amongst the mud like silence. His eyes followed every movement nervously as if he were expecting someone to leap out on him in the darkness clinging to the intervals between the lights. As he continued to walk down the long, winding corridor that as yet appeared to have no end his patience almost failed him but he realised that he'd have to walk back the way he had come to leave the building hidden behind abandoned factories that he was in now. He thought for a moment of calling out to see if anyone could hear him, to see if they could tell him just where he was in this maze of impatience. At times he wanted to run to see if that brought him any closer to the end, if there really was one, but he knew that was unwise. The quarry he was carrying in a bag held in a tight grip by his side was rather…explosive.

Feeling tired from his long walk he paused and set the bag down on the ground. He leant against a wall marred by mildew but it didn't matter to him, he was more worried about resting before he fell down. Wrinkling his nose he watched a rat come dangerously close to him, he hated the creatures. He hated all animals, especially small ones more likely to be trodden on than petted. To him animals were food, pets were unnecessary extensions of the food chain and indulgences that many couldn't afford and yet committed themselves to. It disgusted him the way people viewed their pets and it was a subject that he could debate with someone about for hours but he had neither the time nor the patience at this moment and there was also a lack of a conversational partner.

"So there you are," A voice echoed in a mocking tone down the corridor, "I thought you'd gotten lost."

"I did at one point. You forget I'm not as young as I used to be." The man replied annoyance clear in his tone.

"Neither am I. Did you bring what I asked for?"

"Would I dare not to? I know what you're like. You're like your mother."

"I try to be."

The man shook his head, "You've got a long way to go though, your name doesn't mean as much as hers nor does your reputation. It doesn't have the same affect."

This observation was greeted by loud, uncontrolled laughter that rang out through the corridor. Confused yet taken up with the apparent humour of the situation the man joined in. With his laughter came vulnerability, he didn't see his contact step out of the shadows holding the weapon nor did he have time to react before it tore into his throat. His laughter turned to desperate gurgling as his knees began to fold from underneath him. The last thing he saw before the world around him went black and the dread hand of death took him, was his contact standing over him a smile still visible on his blooded face.

Something akin to frost mingled with fresh fire tore across her throat. She heard laughter ringing in her ears and the sticky wetness of blood pouring down her neck. Her lungs constricted cutting off her air supply. In a complete panic, alone in a place where no one knew what was happening to her she tried to get up unassisted. Her legs betrayed her as she tried to stand upon them and she fell to the ground like a dead weight. Coldness overcame her as she closed her eyes against the pain.

Monuments of darkness stood as if guarding over something, something that needed to be protected at all costs. They reached high into the sky, little lights twinkling up and down them. All around them buildings seemed to be vying in an immortal competition whose point was to see which of them was the tallest. Tinted glass shimmered in moonlight that had broken through wispy clouds circulating the sky like hungry predators searching for a feast. Every now and then they would devour the moon's light only to release it when their sustenance was taken.

Stepping into the chill night air he looked around him. This was a city he had never been to. In all the places he had seen this place as similar to them but it held an element of danger that he couldn't place his finger on. There was something in this city; something somewhere hidden in secrets, secrets shrouded with a mystery that couldn't be solved. Part of him wanted to dive into that mystery, to discover what it had hidden behind its veils of secrecy while another told him to steer well clear of something he shouldn't begin to think of meddling in. Right now all that really concerned him was finding her.

Enigmatic in his incomparable sophistication he walked into the room. As always he was flawlessly dressed in his favourite attire, a black Armani suit with a sword shaped neck pin fastened to the top of his jacket. A thin yet devastating smile brushed his lips as his cold blue eyes fell on his guest. Taking his eyes from her for a mere second he seated himself in an easy chair lined with the finest velvet, directly facing hers. As if his eyes had been caught by something in another time his gaze became fixed just above her left shoulder after he had sat down. Slipping into the past he sat silently his eyes fixed on that invisible spot of time.

There she stood, in a garden somewhere a long, long way away. A rose rested softly in her hands, her lips kissed with gentle moonlight as tears pooled in her clear blue eyes; tears that pleaded with him to stay, that pleaded with him not to leave her as her heart cried out for his.

"_Lucien_. _Please. Take me. I cannot live without you," _She had whispered as he walked silently away.

Never again was he to see her shining face or feel the softness of her lips upon his.

"You loved her didn't you?" A voice softer than a rose petal guided him back to the present.

"Yes," He breathed, "I loved Fleur very much. You…you look a lot like her."

"Does it disturb you?"

As if he'd broken something valuable he looked at her, "No, not at all my dear. I find your presence rather…" He paused as he searched for a word, "Refreshing; in truth, arousing."

"I know. I can feel it." She replied her voice nothing more than a whisper.

It was then that he stood. Something shone in his eyes that she had seen before, it had been restricted but now it had free reign. As he walked over to her she watched him, his movements graceful yet slow; as if he were hunting her. She let him pull her up into a standing position and wrap his hands around her waist. In turn she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. As his lips met hers the world melted away, nothing mattered anymore.

As if stung by something LaCroix pulled away from the kiss quickly, "I'm sorry. I…I forgot…your fiancé-"

LaCroix's apology was cut off by Robyn pressing her lips to his. Lost to sensation his hands tightened their grip on her waist as he deepened the kiss…


	11. Chapter 11

Captain Amanda Cohen walked uneasily down the long, dark corridor. There was something about this place that frightened her. It felt as if death were all around her, waiting for a chance to reach out its dread hand to snatch someone else from the world of the living. As she walked she could hear the clicks of her heels on the concrete floor resonating all around her like a hundred pulses all squashed into one tiny space. It all seemed so familiar, like a dark rain-washed alleyway an uncomfortably close distance away, a place where every noise seemed to have a life of its own, where darkness seemed to rule over everything.

Picking up her pace she tried to escape the darkness that seemed to swallow up every speck of light in that narrow tunnel into death's domain. Up ahead she knew there was safety, there was light, light and a body that she had been specifically asked to look at. It wasn't long before she reached that place, her men walking around the narrow murder scene trying to find clues while forensics assisted them.

"What have we got gentlemen?" She asked getting the attention of Detectives Knight and Schanke.

Nick looked up, "Captain, what are you doing here?"

"I was asked to come here by the Mayor, it seems the victim is someone very important to people we don't want upset."

"He doesn't look like he's in with any of the gangs around here," Schanke joined using his knowledge of local gangs, "Looks more like a scientist."

"That's what he is. He works in a prestigious scientific research organisation just outside of the city, the same organisation that reported stocks of chemicals stolen last night, chemicals that can be used to make Molotov cocktails among other things. I'm sure you realise that they're very worried."

Nick nodded his expression grim, "I hate to say it but we didn't find any chemicals on him. I'm guessing that whoever killed him had arranged to meet him here; maybe he refused to hand over the goods and this is what happened."

"Or he wanted too much money for his trouble; by the looks of his shoes I'd say he needed the money." Schanke joked.

"That's enough Detective," Cohen scorned, "I wouldn't say that your jokes are welcome in light of the current situation."

"Sorry Captain."

Cohen nodded briskly before turning to Nat, "Do we have any leads on the perp, Doctor Lambert?"

"Well, the slash to the throat is pretty deep. Not done by your ordinary killer. I'd say it's consistent with the sort of depth I found to the stab wounds on the woman we found in the alley. Until I get her into the morgue and run a few tests I won't be able to give you a definite 'yes'."

"Ok, see what you can come up with Doctor Lambert." Cohen replied before looking over at her Detectives, "Are we any closer to finding the perp from the last one?"

Both Detectives suddenly looked rather sheepish.

"Alright gentlemen, it seems this is a tough one. Get a couple of uniforms to bring Robyn to the precinct or collect her yourselves; see if she can give you any more information on Cain, anything that will widen the spectrum a little more. I want him found and quickly, if he can kill people like this we're sure to have more dead bodies on our hands and I really don't want another spitting contest with the Mayor."

Detectives Knight and Schanke nodded before walking past their second body and the forensics team. Neither one said a word as they moved through the corridor. Both were annoyed at their lack of clues on this case and the one of the woman in the alley. It seemed their oasis of good luck and contacts had dried up the moment the name Robyn had given them had been mentioned. Whoever he was he had a reputation that preceded him, a reputation that was making this case a hard nut to crack. No one would talk, no one would look at them and no one would help them anymore.

Fresh as a summer's breeze and as unwelcome as the bubonic plague Ellen strolled into town. She was well aware of the hateful glare of everyone that noticed her sanctimonious procession towards the only person that had the inclination to give her the time of day, a person that had seemed to shut himself off from everyone else. Everyone had seen the blue piece of paper floating in the air towards her, everyone saw the way she grabbed it and the way she smiled as she read it. She ignored them all as she climbed the waiting ladder into the arms of her more than willing victim.

Reaching the top of the ladder she pulled herself the rest of the way into the airship. In a corner stood Sportacus looking more than a little sorry for himself. Immediately her face adopted a sympathetic expression and she walked over to him her arms outstretched. He accepted her invitation and clung onto her like lichen cling to rocks on the sea shore. For a long while they remained like that and Ellen wondered just when he would pull himself together. It was only when she felt the wetness of tears on the back of her neck that whatever shred of sympathy rested in her cold heart turned into annoyance. She pushed him away from her but not roughly enough to make him suspect that she didn't actually care.

"What's wrong, baby?" She cooed.

Sportacus shook his head, "Robyn's gone missing and it's all my fault. We argued and I said things to her…things I shouldn't have said."

"Was it because of what she did to me? I'm not angry about her hitting me and knocking me in the pond anymore." This was a definite lie.

"No, there's more." Sportacus replied his voice hushed as if the walls were listening, hanging on to his every word.

"Then come sit with me on the bed and tell me all about it."

Sportacus allowed himself to be led by Ellen to his bed where he sat down heavily, exhausted. She sat beside him her hand gently clasped in his, it was then that she noticed what a state his hands were in, that she realised just how human he really was.

Nick pulled the Caddie to a stop just outside the Raven. He was reluctant to take Schanke in with him, there had been times when Schanke had outstayed his welcome in the club and annoyed Janette. Unfortunately at this time he had little choice, they had a job to do. With Robyn's attacker on the loose it would take the two of them to transport her safely, one to keep watch and another to stick close to her in case of trouble.

Getting out of the car Schanke stretched a little, he'd been up nearly all night and now he was starting to get tired. He tried not to look at his watch in case it told him something he didn't want to hear, he knew well enough that his shift was far from over but that didn't stop him thinking of his bed. As he stretched his arms out he tilted his head back slightly.

It was then that he noticed someone standing on the roof of a building across the road, watching them.


	12. Chapter 12

Someone knocked heavily on the door to his bedroom, a sanctuary to which very few were spared the privilege to visit. He opened his eyes disturbed from the sweet realms of sleep and turned over to look at her. It had really happened, she was here. She had really shared his bed with him wrapped in blankets and naked flesh. A genuinely warm smile touched his lips as he traced a line gently down her cheek bone with his cool fingers, the softness of her flesh left him breathless. Her eyes fluttered open for a brief second before closing again under the weight of sleep. Content to let her rest he didn't wake her. Instead, he got of bed alone allowing her the luxury of continuing her dreams unhindered. He wished for a moment that he had had that pleasure but by the tone of the knocking on his door urgent business awaited him.

Before moving to the door he slipped a robe over his broad shoulders and concealed his body, as perfect as a statue of chiselled marble, beneath waves of silk. A slight frown creased his brow as still the knocks continued. It was only when he pulled the door open that his torment ended, on the other side of the door and guilty of landing such a noisy assault on his privacy was a harassed looking Janette.

"Nichola and his partner are here, they want to take Robyn to the precinct to ask her some questions. There's been another murder." Janette explained.

LaCroix closed his eyes briefly as if in silent contemplation, "Tell Nicholas that Robyn will be with them in ten minutes. If they cannot wait that long I would suggest that they find an alternative means of solving their case."

Janette nodded and turned away to fulfil her task. As she walked back down the corridor she heard the door to her father's bedroom click softly shut. For a few seconds she had seen who he had shared his bed with, it came of little surprise to her but she knew it was a situation that could very quickly turn nasty with a lot of people. It was more than likely that LaCroix would fall foul of Nick's tongue when he discovered just what her father had been doing with Robyn.

With Janette and the possibility of any future disturbance in the short term gone LaCroix closed the bedroom door. Turning back into the room he saw Robyn sitting on the edge of the bed watching him, her eyes warm when they met his. Smiling he walked over to her with deliberate slowness keeping his eyes fixed on nothing but her eyes. It was only when he remembered the promise that he had made that his smile faded.

"Nicholas and his partner Detective Schanke want to take you in for questioning. I said you'd be ten minutes." LaCroix purred in a voice used exclusively for his radio shows.

"I know, I heard. It seems that nowadays if someone is killed I'm the first person they look into."

"You know about the murder?"

"Yes. I felt it, yesterday afternoon while I was reading."

"Does this happen often?" LaCroix asked with genuine concern.

"Not very often but it's hard explain, it's something I can't go into. I'm restricted in what I can say, like you."

LaCroix nodded, understanding. Sitting beside Robyn on the bed he leant over and picked up a pile of her clothes from a blanket box standing at its base. Once she had been furnished with her clothes he went in search of his in a dresser that rested against a wall in the room. For the sake of prudence he kept his back turned as she put on her undergarments which allowed him the chance to do the same with his. He knew that there would be talk, someone as well known as he had little in the way of privacy as far as his actions went. As far as he was concerned they could talk all they wanted, only he and the woman sat on the edge of his bed knew what had really gone on behind the closed door.

Feeling in need of sustenance LaCroix left the room and headed for the bar but not before kissing his companion again. Were she not required elsewhere he would have loved to have repeated their night together, unfortunately it was a plan that wasn't going to work his way. There would be other times, he knew, but when that next time would happen he didn't know. All he could do was wait, something he was very good at.

Sauntering down the corridor in her usual fashion Janette arrived back at the main room in the private quarters where she found Detective Schanke peering longingly at the collection of fine wine bottles behind an ornate pair of locked gates. She was glad that they were out of his reach; it was her opinion that if he'd had access to them they would have been guzzled away in seconds, not an appropriate way to treat LaCroix's private stock. Getting a little tired with being faced by the balding patch on Detective Schanke's head Janette cleared her throat, an action which turned the balding patch into a face although she couldn't quite work out which was the more attractive.

"Oh. Hi." Detective Schanke said pleasantly, "If you're wondering where Nick is he's talking to the barman about something. You know he's a really nice guy."

"Nicholas?"

"No, the bar guy. What's his name?"

Janette raised a well plucked eyebrow, "Miklos?"

"That's him. Where's Robyn?"

"She'll be out in a couple of minutes, she's just getting dressed."

Schanke nodded before turning back to the bottles behind those oh so obstructive gates. His tongue darted out briefly to lick his lips as they became dry at the thought of tasting some of that luscious looking wine. It didn't matter that he was at work and strictly wasn't allowed to drink any alcohol. Since he'd given up smoking he'd found other pastimes to concentrate on.

A smile twisted his lips as he gazed down on the street below. People milled about some walking into the club that he had kept a watch on for days. The detectives spotting him had done little to disturb him, sure they had searched the place but he'd been long gone by the time they'd made it all the way up to the roof. They'd not found his bag either, the bag that was about to make things in the great city around him a whole lot more interesting.

He remembered times when he'd played a similar waiting game at the Crazytown orphanage. For many long summer days he'd sat in the garden waiting for squirrels to go in search of food for their winter stores, concealed in bushes he had watched them run about. To keep them even longer in the garden and to catch them unawares he would leave nuts out in the open. Like pirates finding treasure the squirrels would crowd around the nuts thinking all of their Christmases had come at once. Only when they least suspected any danger would he run out of the bushes and kill the squirrels by bashing them with sticks. Now, here he was again, playing that same game but this time there was one particular squirrel he wanted to catch but to do that he needed to flush it out. Flushing it out would be as simple as opening a bottle.

Bending down he reached into his bag. Already he'd mixed enough chemicals together to make his light show worth while. One by one he took bottles from the bag and placed them in a line on the roof ready for them to be used. In the top of each bottle he stuffed a piece of fabric that hung over the neck of each. Eager fingers pulled a matchbox from his pocket, his heart almost skipped a beat as he lit the first one. As if proposing to a bride he lowered himself down on one knee, his fingers trembling he held the match to the bottom of the fabric. A wide grin touched his face as it caught light.

Lifting the bottle in the air he looked down on all those below him, milling about like little ants, before dropping it. With the first explosion came the beginning of his campaign against the city of Toronto.


	13. Chapter 13

People were sent hurtling to the ground by an explosion that sent a tsunami of sound tearing through the narrow streets of that area. People that got up ran through the streets in utter panic screaming for their lives. Some ran into the sanctity of the nightclub while others tried to hide in alleyways. A second and third explosion soon followed rocking those already on the ground. Tentacles of fire snaked out trapping those that hadn't been able to get up fast enough behind a rapidly growing wall of death. Those that weren't dead already soon would be as a further two explosions ripped through the air. People caught up in ravenous flames ran in a panic, an action which only fanned the hellish flames drenching them, some people were unlucky enough to get caught by them.

Nothing was immune from this heathenish attack from above. Those that chanced to look above them saw that this was no attack from the hands of God; up there high above them stood someone upon a rooftop. Even from such a distance they could see the white toothy grin, the shape of a bottle glowing in the moonlight and a match lit, waiting to be touched to a cloth. For many this was a sign that their lives would soon end, one or two drowned out of the panic by this awful sight lowered themselves to their knees in prayer as the very bottle they had been looking at was dropped. With the sound of broken glass came their agonised screams.

Even before Detectives Knight and Schanke pushed their way through hordes of panicked people into the night they knew that something was going very wrong. In the air all around them hung the stinging scent of kerosene mixed with smoke. It almost choked them as the pushed through the metal doors now blackened through exposure to flames. Instead of meeting all encompassing darkness as their feet touched the street their eyes were met with flames that lit up everything that was around them. Their ears were assaulted with the sounds of screams from those that were dying and other trapped in the grip of an inescapable fear. Chaos ran riot all around them. In desperation they left the safety of the building to attempt to assist those that needed their help. Out of the hundred or so people caught up in this horrid fate they knew that only rendering their efforts fruitless but they had to try, something had to be done.

The spider had left its web. Throwing down the last of his Molotov cocktails to keep everyone busy he clambered down from the roof. Running down the fire escape he turned left down an alleyway which connected to another. Cautious in his eagerness he made sure that he wasn't noticed as he swept down an alleyway that terminated just one hundred metres from his target. It was one of only few alleyways still left that weren't barricaded by a wall of flame. There, concealed in shadows he stood and waited. Moving in for his target now would be foolish, what he needed was a diversion.

Over the roar of the numerous fires caused by his attack and the screams of both men and women he could hear the wailing of sirens. Somewhere in the distance ambulances and fire engines were coming, it was certain that they would be joined by police but that didn't worry him. Sticking his head out of the alleyway he could see a variety of flashing lights before the vehicles tore past him. With their arrival came his chance. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his favourite toy, his scalpel, he knew that there would be a chance that he would need to use it this night.

Something was going on, something bad. As he'd walked through the eerily quiet streets he'd heard muffled bangs like distant thunder, to his ears it had sounded like nothing more. Then, just as he'd reassured himself it was nothing a whole army of fire engines, police cars and ambulances had torn past him with their sirens blaring. In desperate curiosity he began running in the direction they had gone. He'd been in enough places to know that if emergency vehicles travelled in numbers like that something big was going down and that they'd need as many hands as they could get. In his mind he tried to picture what was going on but nothing he had thought of came anywhere near what affronted his eyes when he reached the scene.

All around him people were running, screaming, dying. His eyes darted about in rapid movements as his heart beat like a hand against a tightly drawn drum. For one devastating moment he thought he'd seen someone moving through the darkness calmly, immune to the panic that gripped everyone. Turning his eyes upon them again he realised it was no illusion, for what seemed like hours his mind tried to cogitate whether any of this was real. As he continues to watch the person walking calmly his brain told him that all of this was really happening, that it was real, dangerously real. Shutting off the rest of the world he followed the person, there was something terribly familiar about them.

She could feel them, all of them. She heard their cries as death gripped them in its throes. Their pain was hers, no matter how she tried she could neither block it out nor could she control it. Locked in the bathroom she lay under waves of intense agony where no one could help her. Blood began to trickle from her nose and ears as her body began to buckle under the intense pressure put upon it. She wanted to scream but whenever she opened her mouth nothing but her breath came out. She was drowning in a sea of pain, of torture, of death. Her proximity to the danger outside was limited making every second worse. Each minute it grew closer as more and more people were pulled into the club as it became a make-shift hospital for those that wouldn't make the ambulance journey to salvation.

In a storm of sensation where she could only feel pain her body tried to compensate for what it sensed was happening to it. Already it might have died a dozen deaths but still it fought for freedom. It tried to wrap itself in a veil of unconsciousness but the mind knew that unconsciousness would mean death. It would be a respite without end, an eternal sleep without pain. As time went on the offer became more and more tempting but still she refused. To accept the invitation to die would be weakness. It would be an empty, lonely death that would mean nothing. Her remains would rest forever in shame at succumbing to the end of a struggle that she had fought long and hard to control.

No one saw him as he entered the building. Everyone was too busy tending to the sick and wounded that lay on the floor all around him. He was surrounded by death, death that he had wrought on innocent people. As he walked through the room he tried not to smile, it would be a smile of proportions that would identify him as the cause of all this pain and suffering. His mother had taught him restraint, as a boy he'd not known its importance but now he knew that it was paramount. Looking around him he couldn't see Robyn among those that had been injured, he guessed that she was in the back of the club. Somewhere where she was safe from him, guarded by two out of the three people he had observed entering and leaving the club. From what he could see in the darkness two of her three potential guards were helping tend the sick, he knew that the blond detective and his partner were outside. It was obvious that they were looking for him but he knew he was safe; they were looking in the wrong place after all.

Still he walked across the floor, still no one noticed him. Hollow, dead eyes would look at him once in a while but they couldn't register his presence nor could they send any alarm. As if coming to the end of a long journey he reached the door that led to the back of the club, looking behind him briefly he opened the door and walked through. It seemed that his caution paid off, he noticed that someone had been following him, someone that could cause him a great deal of trouble if they chose to interfere. He knew that before he carried out his task that this person had to be dealt with.

Quickly he walked down the corridor until he found a convenient recess belonging to a door that had been built deeper into the wall than any of the others. It was here that he hid, waiting. A smile spread across his lips as he heard the door re-open and footsteps sound in the corridor towards him. Pushing himself back further against the door he waited until the right moment…and struck. His pursuer fell face down on the ground. He'd not killed him that would come later. For now he contented himself with leaving him unconscious. Lifting his foot he turned his latest victim over, he remembered him as being Robyn's fiancé. He promised himself that if the man meddled in his affairs again he would be Robyn's fiancé no longer.

Smiling again he walked away. Heading back down the corridor he opened every single door, the fifth door he opened led him to the very person he had been looking for.

Writhing on the floor she didn't hear the bathroom door open nor did she hear that voice, that cold, mocking voice speak to her in its harsh tones. Over her pain she barely felt the scrape of his skin against hers until his hands clasped her head tightly as if trying to pop it like a balloon. It was then that she opened her eyes, for only a matter of moments her eyes met a pair of stormy blue eyes that she never hoped to see again before everything went black.

Scooping his quarry up into his arms he left the bathroom. Instead of going out the way he had come in, which would be an action beyond foolish, he walked to the far end of the corridor. A fire exit stood shut but not for long, kicking it open he took one last look down the corridor before slipping out into the night.

Things had worked very well indeed.


	14. Chapter 14

Blazoned on the front of every morning newspaper on every breakfast table in every home for hundreds of miles was devastating news of an unprovoked attack on innocent citizens in a place that had never seen such violence before. Printed in stark, merciless colour were images that showed people that had suffered horrific injuries lying dead in pools of blood that ran down the roads in rivers and others surrounded by walls of fire. Pictures printed on the inside pages showed people being put in ambulances offering some hope to those that viewed them that some people had survived, what the pictures didn't show were sheets being drawn over people's heads once behind the closed doors of their ambulance, a sure sign that they were dead. Beyond the people were buildings gutted by fire, windows irreparably blackened by smoke or stained by blood, blood that could never be washed away. Each of the pictures had been taken by journalists more interested in getting a scoop or award for their 'brave acts in the face of disaster' than they were helping those that were injured or dying. In particular newspaper a small obituary had been printed commemorating the sad demise of one of their photographers, a small price to pay for sheer stupidity and faceless bureaucracy.

Some newspapers had numbered the death toll after the attacks in the hundreds while others played it down to the mid fifties, the truth was that no one was sure how many people had died that night. Speculation was rife over who had committed the attacks; some said terrorists while others had claimed that it had all been carried out by some mad man who had been in search of a good time and who had worked alone with frightening skill. So far none of the known terrorist groups had owned up to the crime or claimed responsibility for planning such an attack. An article had been published in a little respected tabloid that commented that one terrorist group had commended the attack, something that didn't bode well with anyone that had happened to read the paper.

One of these newspapers had found its way onto Doctor Malone's desk in the outreach clinic, a place of respite for him from the chaotic nature of the safe house. In his hand he held a cup of Earl Grey, his favourite blend of tea, while his eyes lazily scanned the front page. After working two night shifts in a row his mind refused to focus on anything as technical as a report of a senseless massacre. Without looking at the words on the paper it seemed as if the pictures were telling him the story, giving him all of the gory details in the simplest fashion. Despite the sheer exhaustion clouding his mind something caught his eye, something or rather someone in one of the photographs. Laying his cup of Earl Grey down he picked up the paper, the sudden shock of seeing what he'd saw breathing new energy into his sleep addled brain. Studying the picture more closely now he shook his head, this couldn't be real, this couldn't be happening, it couldn't be him in the photograph. Finally deciding that he ought to make some enquiries he tucked the newspaper under his arm before leaving his office. He hoped that he was awake enough to make the drive over to Lazytown.

Once, twice, three times he said her name. Once, twice, three times she ignored him. Her eyes were shut tightly in sleep, a sleep more peaceful than any attempt he'd made to ease his exhausted body. Turning over he breathed deeply into the soft pillow supporting his head, he could still smell the sweet perfume of her hair upon it, even now, long after she'd gone. For months he'd not disturbed her bed but recently he'd felt a growing need to be close to her, to something that belonged to her and that would refresh his memory of her. In his bed laid the woman he'd been trying to awaken but she resisted him. It was just as well, as pleasurable as he found her company there was something that put him on edge the more time he spent with her. More often than not he had pushed that feeling aside; this was one of those particular times. Apart from her had no one; one of the most important people in his life had disappeared without a trace and it had been he that had pushed her away.

Telling her his secret had eased his pain a little, she'd pursed her lips while remaining silent for some time but she'd not condemned him. He'd not turned from him or told him that he was better off dead. Once she'd broken her silence she'd spoken words of comfort while wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him to her. This had made him open a door that he had kept firmly shut for years. He told her about Lily, about his parents and their dislike of what he'd done; he'd told her about his fears, about what he wanted for the future; he told her how disgusted he was with himself for letting his self-control slip allowing Lily to seduce him like she had done with so many of her conquests, he told her about trying to strangle his own sister and how he'd been secretly glad that she was dead but how that had been overridden by sorrow that he'd not been able to save her despite all she'd done to him. After he had filled the air with the depth of his soul he'd listened to Ellen's silence, it gave him peace despite the current climate.

Now, after opening his heart to her, she lay distant from him. Never before had he ever talked with anyone like that or shown that he too had his weaknesses. It seemed odd that he'd shared his deepest fears with someone he'd only known a matter of months compared with someone like Ché whom he'd known for years. There had been a time when he would have spoken to Ché like he had done with Ellen but now that he realised just how deeply his shameful behaviour went he was scared of his friend's reaction.

Something stirred in the deep darkness of the room, darkness that her eyes had yet to adapt to. She had no idea how long she'd been here, time seemed to have no dimension in this room. For longer than she knew the thick darkness around her had been filled with an even thicker silence. Breaking that silence had not been easy, like breaking a brick wall, it had resisted her every attempt to force it from the room. She had shouted until she was hoarse but still it hadn't moved. Something deep within that impenetrable darkness made a sound that shifted the silence somewhat more than she had done. Someone was in the room with her and from what she could make out they were walking towards her.

Hands reached around her head, they came to a rest at her nape. Fingers coursed their way gently through her hair. Their touch was soothing until those same gentle fingers turned into a fist that held a clump of her tightly making her cry out. Silence overcame her cries as lips pushed themselves roughly over hers and a tongue tried to grind its way into her mouth. She tried to move her hands but something was stopping her, it felt as if they'd been tied by something to stop her using them. Lost in the darkness and unable to fight she let the lips carry on as the tongue entered her mouth. Waiting for the right moment she chose a time to form some kind of defence against the intruder, steadying her heartbeat she bit down hard on the invading tongue. Instantly it was removed with a cry of pain from its owner but this attack did not go without retribution, she felt a hand strike her temple causing the darkness to become that little bit thicker as her eyes closed.

Rapid knocking on the front door of the house forced Greta from her chair; she and Ché had been staying with Robbie since Robyn's disappearance to keep a close eye on him in case he tried to do anything fatally stupid. Stopped over she walked to the door and opened it to see Doctor Malone standing on the other side. The man looked very tired and it was evident that something was bothering him greatly. Without another moment's delay she stepped aside and let him pass.

"Where is Mr Rotten?" The Doctor asked his words rushed, "I need to speak to Mr Rotten."

Hearing his name Robbie emerged from the kitchen, "I'm here, what is it?"

"You have to see this."

"See what?"

Doctor Malone walked hurriedly over to Robbie and practically shoved the newspaper in his hands into Robbie's face.

"The picture. Look, look at it closely and tell me what you see."

Not sure what exactly the picture was supposed to tell him Robbie did as the Doctor said, the man seemed much too agitated to accept any refusal. Slowly he let his eyes wander over the picture but he failed to see what he was so desperately wanted to see. In spite of this he tried again. This time his eyes registered something in the picture, the same something that Doctor Malone had seen.

There, walking through crowds of people, was Kit; safe, sound and searching. Looking more closely at the picture Robbie saw another face that made his blood run cold with fear.


	15. Chapter 15

His head pounded. Before opening his eyes he had some idea of where he was but what he wasn't sure about was why he was here or who was in the place with him. He was aware of hands holding him; of a hard surface, possibly a wall, against his back. Voices echoed in his ears their words unclear. Slowly he lifted a hand to the back of his head, it hurt when he touched it. Drawing his hand away he started to open his eyes but closed them as soon light entered them, it was too bright, it hurt too. He could feel another pair of hands caress his cheek, more words were spoken but still they meant nothing to him. It was as if someone had pressed their mouth close to his ear and was mumbling. He would have spoken to them, tried to communicate, but the thought of the action hurt more than the action itself would have done. Had he been able to speak or hear, he would have tried but not knowing exactly where he was or why he was here was a barrier. For the time being he remained silent as he hoped that he would remember what had brought him here and that the words being spoken to him would mean something.

Natalie Lambert got up from the floor and turned to Nick, "He has a very bad concussion. In other circumstances I'd say we need to get him to a hospital but there's no chance of that, not now."

"Will he be ok?"

"Give him a couple of hours and that concussion should clear up. Whoever hit him hit him hard."

Nick nodded and looked down on the man sitting a few feet from him, "I've got a hunch that he's Robyn's fiancé but until we can talk to him properly there's no way to confirm that."

"If he is her fiancé how did he find her?"

"I don't know. I'm sure there's an explanation. Do you think we should move him?"

Nat shook her head, "No, we moved him enough when we sat him up. He'll be fine there for now. I guess that LaCroix wasn't too impressed to find out that two people slipped back here right under his nose."

"He wasn't. Look, I've got to speak to him. See if he knows where Robyn is, hopefully he had her moved somewhere."

"If he didn't?"

"We have a problem. See you later, Nat. If you need anything give me a shout."

"I will."

Nick smiled before turning around and walking down the corridor. He found LaCroix standing beside the still open fire exit. There was a look on the man's face that he hadn't seen for a long time, it was a look that awakened old memories and told him something he really hadn't wanted to know. Moving closer to LaCroix, Nick turned him round to face him. LaCroix's eyes said it all and Nick struggled to contain his anger. Grabbing hold of one of LaCroix's arms he pulled the man into one of the back rooms out of everyone's earshot. When LaCroix looked at him in a frankly bored manner he could easily have lost his temper but he refrained.

"What have you done with her?" He snarled.

"I have done nothing, Nicholas, nothing that you automatically assume I've done. I am not responsible for her disappearance."

"I wasn't talking about that!" Nick snapped, "You slept with her didn't you?"

"That is none of your concern."

"Yes it is. She was put here to be protected, not used by you. Her fiancé is out there, didn't you think about him?"

LaCroix's eyes narrowed as his mouth drew back in a snarl, he had had enough. It was clear to him that Nick had forgotten just who he was talking to and he wouldn't get away with it. In response to Nick's thoughtless accusations and disrespect he backhanded the younger man with such force that he was thrown to the ground. Not done with punishing insolence that should have never taken place he picked Nick up by the lapels and hurled him across the room into a wall. Hardly fazed with this exertion he stood and waited for more defiance, when none came he walked across the room and sat on a Chaise Longe finely embroidered with velvet. With his patience restored he waited for Nick to pick himself up from the floor so that they might continue their conversation.

She felt the hands upon her flesh again, his hot breath mingling with hers. Sometimes his lips would take hers roughly holding them to his. She could smell him, sweat mingled with the clean, sharp scent of aftershave. Against her cheek she felt the rasp of his stubble. Its roughness was soon replaced by the wetness of his tongue, an action which made her flinch. She didn't know how long he had been doing this or how long he intended to continue. Fear gripped her when she thought how far he might go in his ministrations. Every now and then she would feel a hand drop from her face to touch her elsewhere. She squirmed under these touches especially when she felt one his hands slip down to her inner thigh. With deliberate slowness he traced his hand closer and closer to what lay between them.

"Stop!" Robyn cried out hoping that he would move his hand no further.

"Why?" Cain whispered his mouth close to Robyn's ear "Wouldn't you like to feel a real man between your thighs?"

The question was so absurd she might have laughed had the situation not been so dire. She knew she was in real danger, she knew that any wrong move she made would either make him go through with his intentions or hit her again which would lead to him inevitably carrying out his wish while she was unconscious. His game with her had gone much further than ever before; it was becoming sexual, a path that would lead her on a downward spiral towards her death. Even now his hand was still moving, soon it would reach its goal and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Suddenly, without warning, his hand stopped. She could feel him move his hand away from her thigh and back to her face.

Once again she felt his lips at her ear, "But perhaps not yet, there's something I have to do first. While I'm gone I'll turn a light on for you, I know you don't enjoy the darkness as much as I do."

Both of his hands were gone. She heard him walk away through the ever dense darkness that seemed to hold her in warm arms. Silence fell in the room for a few seconds before she heard a click and light flooded the room. She flinched with a sharp intake of breath as the light stung her eyes. Before he left she heard him chuckle briefly. When the door clicked shut she slowly opened her eyes into slits. Eventually they became used to the change in light and she opened them wider. Looking around the room she saw that this was a place little better than a hovel. Grimacing she looked down at her hands and saw that they were tied to a chair that she had been sat in, her legs had also been tied up.

Feeling utterly helpless under the weight of everything that had happened she began to cry, there was no way out. No one knew where she was, no one was coming to save her. Not Nick, not LaCroix, not Kit and not her father. She was going to die alone, shamed and tarnished.

Greta followed Ché out of the house. He'd taken the newspaper from Robbie's hands after seeing the man's reaction and his had been equally confused. She'd never seen such determination in his eyes. Running after him now she wished she had seen the paper too, it was the only way she'd know what had put him into this mood. Finding it difficult to keep up with his colossal strides she stopped and called after him. Thankfully he stopped and turned around to face her.

"Ché," Greta panted, "What is it? What did you see?"

"Kit was in that picture. He's in Toronto; he would only go there if he knew Robyn was there too. I have to find them both."

"Let the Network find them, they have sources. They'll be able to track them down and bring them home."

"No. I can't let them get involved."

"Why not?"

"Because Cain was in that picture too."

Greta's eyes and mouth opened wide, her face had become a mask of surprise. Knowing that she couldn't stop Ché from going she nodded stiffly before walking over to him. Kissing him she hoped that he would find both Kit and Robyn alive.


	16. Chapter 16

Immune to death and indebted to life he stood, slowly. Sometimes it felt as if those eyes saw right through him with their sharp gaze. He never felt entirely at ease when those eyes were directed at him with anger clearly within them. When filled with mirth they put him on edge, it was an emotion that didn't quite seem to fit in those cold blue depths that could prove expressive beyond the capacity of words. Lowering his own eyes in submission he took a few steps forward towards the man sitting watching him from a chair that was maintained perfectly. For many years it had belonged to his sister, it remained where it had always done, in her bedroom; a place untouchable by unwelcome hands. Parting his lips slightly he let out a slight exhalation of air, he still wanted to pursue the point he had been trying to pin down before the altercation with his father but he was almost afraid of suffering more violence. Once he had made up his mind and gathered enough courage to raise his eyes he did so, they were greeted with an expectant expression as if he were being urged to continue. This had proved a trick so many times in the past but he had to know, he had to know now.

"Did you sleep with her?" The words left him before he'd even processed them in his mind.

LaCroix raised an eyebrow, "It's obvious, Nicholas, that like any other bone you pick up you won't stop chewing it. If you must know, our encounter was intimate but not fully so. I did nothing with her that would endanger her life or my reputation."

"How can I be sure you're telling the truth?"

"Perhaps you ought to ask Robyn. That is if you can find her."

Nick nodded, this was a definite sign that their previous conversation was well and truly over. It was now time for him to turn his mind to finding Robyn; sparing a last look at LaCroix he left the room. He walked over to the fire exit and closed it before going in search of Schanke. Dawn wasn't far away and so their time was short.

Traversing the corridor he came towards Nat and her patient who was looking a lot more awake than before. She smiled when she saw him but it was a weak smile, a smile of foreboding, a smile that told him that this was Robyn's fiancé. Coming to a stop beside her he placed a gentle hand on her elbow before kneeling down in front of the man sitting on the floor.

"You're Kit I presume," Nick said when the man looked at him.

The man nodded, "Yeah. You don't need to tell me Robyn isn't here; I kind of guessed she'd be gone when I saw her Muppet brother coming in here."

"You know him?"

"We've met. I don't suppose you know where he is."

Nick shook his head, "We've got officers out all over the place looking for him. We've had no luck so far I'm afraid."

"Damn it!" Kit exclaimed, "If you knew who he was, what he can do…"

"I think he's already done it. Look, can you think of anywhere he might have gone? What sort of places does he like?"

"Places that are dank, dark and miserable; somewhere quiet, where he won't be disturbed. That's all I can tell you."

"That's ok. I know a few places that would match that description. I'm going to head out to one or two of them, uniforms can take the rest."

Nick stood up and was about to walk away when he heard Kit call him back. Looking down he watched Kit trying to get up, after a few minutes Nat helped him and he was on his feet.

Kit looked at Nick with sheer determination in his eyes, "If you're going to find Robyn I'm coming with you. You also can't take Cain out on your own."

This was a suggestion Nick didn't like but he had no choice. Time was running ever shorter and he couldn't help but admit that he would need help. He wasn't sure who exactly he was dealing with. At least with Kit he would have some idea of what to expect, it seemed that he and Cain had met before and his advice would be extremely useful. Turning back to Kit, he nodded. It was time to go.

With blood chilling slowness he opened the door. Before the rest of his body emerged through the doorway he snaked a hand round it to the light switch on the wall. With a deft flick of his fingers darkness plunged into the room extinguishing the light. Star bursts flickered behind her lids as she closed her eyes once more. Darkness brought mercy, it hid the look of desire that leant a bloom to his cheeks and his lips twisted into a lustful smile. It concealed his arousal in a blanket of blindness but she still knew it was there. She could still feel it pressed against her leg as he leant over her to claim her lips or brush his hand up her leg. It was there every second, with every breath, with every caress and it would never be satisfied until it had taken her and destroyed her.

His footsteps echoed around the room making it seem as if he was stamping his way over to her. Each step made her heart pound faster until she thought it would burst from her body. Her palms grew sweaty the more anxious she became and couldn't stop the tears that stung her eyes from falling. She felt his hand brush her cheek gently, more gently than he had ever touched her. Dropping his hand he worked to loosen the bonds that bound her. All the while he kept his cheek pressed against hers with his wordless lips scathing her ear. For a short while he dropped back from her while he released her legs. Now she was free her thoughts turned to escape but there was no way of her succeeding, even if she could run she wouldn't know where she was going and he would soon find her.

They had searched through two buildings but had found no sign. Nick began to grow weary as his eyes flicked across the skyline. They would just make it to the third building but from then on he could go no further. He knew that Kit was growing impatient, that he wanted answers that couldn't be given easily. Despite the man's injury he wasn't lagging behind in the least, Nick could tell that nothing but sheer determination mingled with bitter determination drove him to carry on. Feeling a strange determination of his own he revved up the Caddie and headed off to their next destination in silence.

"It might seem strange but I'm sure we've met before somewhere," Kit's words broke the stillness around them.

Nick turned his head slightly to look at Kit, "I doubt that's possible."

"It's very possible, I have seen you before. You gave me a loaf of bread once, twelve years ago. It was definitely you; before you try denying it again, when someone saves you from starving to death you never forget their face. It's odd that in eleven years you haven't changed a bit."

"Some people don't, some people change slowly."

Kit shook his head, "Not that slowly. I heard stories once, about people that never change in appearance from one year to another, people that are immune to time. I've seen how the sun worries you. I know what you are."

"And what is that?"

"You're a vampire."


	17. Chapter 17

Surprised by Kit's words Nick stood on the brakes pulling the Caddie to a screeching halt by the side of the road. Thankfully hardly any cars frequented the roads now, since the attacks people had been too scared to venture out of their houses at night for fear of another maniac standing, waiting on a rooftop to send them to a fiery grave. It was quiet now, no cars passed as he sat staring at Kit endlessly as if trying to find an answer to a question he had asked himself. Finally, after what seemed like an age, he sat back in his seat his eyes turned back towards the road. His lips parted but no words escaped them, just breath; warm, nervous breath that was almost invisible against the darkness in the car.

"I'm right aren't I?" Kit's words came again, gentler this time.

Nick shifted his eyes in Kit's direction, "If you are you know what kind of danger you're in."

"No, I'm in no danger from you. I have nothing to fear. You saved my life that night, that's not the action of a cold hearted killer. Maybe you were like that once, a long time ago, but not anymore. If you were you would have killed me by now and you wouldn't be out here risking getting toasted if you didn't care about helping me find Robyn."

"You seem very confident." Nick replied his tone edging on dangerous.

"I am. Now, either we sit here chatting or we get moving to this next place before you turn into a pumpkin, Cinderella."

This made Nick turn his head completely in Kit's direction and sharply. For a moment his expression was blank but then a smile formed on his expressive lips. Chuckling slightly he pulled the Caddie away from the side of the road and continued on his way to the third building. He hoped as much as the man beside him that they would find Robyn there.

She felt herself falling, falling down into a deep precipice of darkness mingled with pain and fear as he slowly lowered her to the floor. Scrunching her eyes closed even tighter she tried to imagine herself in another place, a place without him. She felt him run his hands over her breasts. His touch was gentle, his rough skin tickling her sensitive flesh. She could feel his hot breath against her neck as he pressed his body closer to hers. Her body flinched as she felt him run his tongue from her shoulder right up to her neck coming to a stop at her ear. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered to her.

"I can make this easy or I can make this hard; very hard. The choice is yours. If you stay still I won't hurt you but if you struggle…" Cain finished his warning by sharply twisting the contents of one of his hands sending waves of pain through his captive's body. "Do you understand me?"

With gritted teeth Robyn nodded, there was no way she could reply in the negative. It was something she would pay for with her life although it seemed an ample price to pay for what he was going to do to her.

For some time she had been watching him, for some time he had been lying on the bed opposite hers like a statue, unmoving. She had thought of rousing him but the way he laid on the bed told her he wasn't asleep. After what he'd told her she had almost been moved to pity but that had been quashed almost as quickly as it had formed. She'd seen that there was much more to him than had met her eye before but the way he had expressed his innermost feelings had almost bored her to tears. She'd held him as he'd let his words flood out of him, out of his soul, she'd held him as she'd felt tears slide down her neck but all the while her heart had remained cold. In those moments he had shown her a vulnerability she knew that she could attack but it almost seemed pointless. He was weak enough already, the state of his hands proved that.

Getting up from the bed she had slept on for hours she stood for some time on the spot debating whether or not to disturb him. She needed the toilet but without him she couldn't get into the bathroom. If she left the airship to go home she'd never make it back in time, she hadn't brought her car with her. She was sure that there was no one in the town she could ask to lend her their facilities for five minutes. They would rather watch her soil herself under the watchful eye of all those around her than uphold her dignity as a human being.

Finding no other option she walked over to his bed, he heard her footsteps sounding on the hard floor and looked up at her. He tried to smile at her but nothing happened, he had no smiles left. Lowering his eyes he sat up slowly, awkwardly; as the fading light of day touched his chiselled features she could see how pale he looked. She had no idea when he'd last eaten but by the looks of him it hadn't been for a long time. No matter how cold her heart was she couldn't let a man starve to death in front of her, she would go to the toilet then she would make them something to eat; not just for him but to satisfy her stomach also. As for him, he was no good to her dead; Lily had plans for him that required he be nothing but alive.

Taking a few more steps towards him she smiled slightly, "Can you let me into your bathroom? I need to use your facilities."

Sportacus nodded, "You can just go right in, swing the door round. It's the only thing in here that isn't voice activated."

For a moment Ellen had to hold her tongue, she had been standing like an idiot trying to figure out what to do when she could have helped herself into the bathroom. It was something he hadn't told her until now. Forcing a grateful smile she walked over to the bathroom door, shielded by a dome with what looked like running water flowing inside it, and pushed it open. Without looking back at her host she stepped inside and closed the door. She was rather surprised to see a lock on it but then she supposed that even heroes needed their privacy no matter whether they were high up in the air out of the reach of everyone. Locking the door she headed over to the toilet.

Skin against skin, body against body, dominant and submissive they lay their bodies entwined. With frenzied movements he devoured her again and again until she had hoped the world would explode so that she would be set free from this torture. Her skin was covered in scratches were he had dug his nails into her flesh and pulled them downwards tearing her. Every time she thought of escaping in her mind, in images, of imagining that it wasn't him that was taking her he would pull her back to a world where there was only pain, blood and shame. A world where there was no escape, a world where there was nothing but this room, this floor and him; a world without mercy or absolution. Such was this place.

Suddenly, the door to the room burst open with such violence that it was thrown against the opposite wall shocking Cain from his activity. He turned swiftly but it wasn't a fast enough movement for him to identify his attacker before he was pulled into the air and thrown across the room also. As his head impacted with the mangled door everything went black.

For a terrifying moment she didn't know what had happened but then strong, gentle arms enfolded her wrapping her in something soft and warm. Those same arms cradled her as she felt herself being lifted from the floor and into the air. It felt as if she were flying as the ceiling whipped past her eyes. She had entered into a new world now; one of light, dark, light, dark and light again. After her world changed into darkness once more with no sign of light tears began to spill from her eyes, tears that understood what had happened to her. She could feel the arms hold her tighter as everything became still again.

"Hush, hush. It'll be ok pequeña Robyn. You're safe now, Cain can't hurt you anymore." Words spoken in a strong Spanish accent told her

She wanted to believe the words but somehow they didn't seem to hold true. Somehow they meant nothing to her, nothing meant anything anymore.


	18. Chapter 18

Having satisfied her needs for the time being she left her private dungeon and sat next to him. He hadn't moved since she'd left him, it was as if he were a wind up toy that had no momentum of his own until he was wound up. She was almost tempted to see if he had a key by which she could wind him to see if that would make him move. If she left him long enough perhaps he would move of his own accord but it had already appeared that independent movement was beyond him. He was nothing more than a statue, an automaton; a thing without will and yet he was human; a creature that had needs; a living, breathing thing that had feelings and that could feel pain. He could talk and once he could laugh. Once he had been physically supreme but now he was wasting away like an un-watered plant. Now he was nothing, he had lost everything that had made him strong that had made him special.

Feeling her stomach grumble she stood up. Walking over to the same wall she had located the bathroom door on she fumbled to find the switch that controlled the food counter she had seen him activate so many times. So far she had had no luck but she was surprised to see hand appear out of nowhere and press a button that had so far been invisible against the white of the wall. She felt herself being pulled out of the way as the counter slid out of the wall and took up a quarter of the floor space on that half of the airship. Looking over her shoulder she could just see his hand resting on it, and beyond that, him.

In his eyes she could see that he knew what she was intending to do for him. Still no smile creased his lips but there was one there, deep inside where he couldn't find it. In her eyes he could see that she understood, that she wanted to help him but that there was something holding her back. Had he been more inclined to talk he would have asked her what it was but for now he felt comfortable in his silence. If he remained silent there was nothing more about his life he could say to her, he said enough already and that he had put her in an awkward position but she was still there. He'd have expected her to have left by now but still she remained. Now that there was a bed going free in his lonely home there was no reason that she should ever have to leave but he couldn't quite bring himself to let anyone except him lie in or on that bed.

His eyes were heavy and yet he refused sleep. Its gentle soothing motions couldn't tempt him to close his eyes, not even for a second. They were still moving, still searching. Right and left they turned in a corridor that seemed to come to no end, a corridor in a building very much similar to the one where the body of a man had been found, the very man that had supplied the murder weapons used in the attacks of a few days ago. Every shadow seemed to hold a secret; every splash of light in the darkness seemed to be a haven from the emptiness all around them. Every sound was amplified to three times its normal volume meaning that every movement made an awful din.

It was then that they heard the footsteps.

Greta paced the living room floor with her fingernails between her teeth. She was alone in the room; Robbie had gone to take a shower in hopes that it would divert his mind from the path his thoughts had begun to take. As yet there had been no news from Ché and she was beginning to get worried. She tried to remember that no news was good news but in this case it wasn't working. More than once she had been tempted to contact the network, an organisation set up by the band of heroes, to see if they could track her errant husband down but she knew their involvement wouldn't be taken well by Ché. She knew how he hated it when they got involved in anything that he did or was going to do. If they found out that Cain was indeed back from the dead, as seemed to be the case, they would ask some very hard questions that she couldn't answer and doubted anyone else would be able to shine light on.

He should have been in the shower right now. He should have stopped thinking, it was something he'd been doing too much of lately. Every thought that passed through his mind opened up an old wound that refused to close. Sometimes he would try to work out who had fathered Robyn if he hadn't but those thoughts always proved the most painful. In his darkest moments he would almost convince himself that both Kit and Robyn were gone forever, that he would never see them again.

He understood why Greta was here, why Ché had been staying over as well. Without their constant presence and watchful eyes he might have given way to his sorrow completely and put his life in danger. Already he had lost one of the most important people in his life and now the second most important had disappeared with her. As for Sportacus; he hadn't seen him for days, no one had. The only person that had had anything to do with him was that vulture Ellen.

Ellen.

That name stirred up more hatred in him than he had ever felt in his life. She had ruined him and destroyed his family. She had been the cause of most of his hurt and the hurt of his…he couldn't say the word anymore, it would be a lie.

Nick stopped walking and held a hand to Kit's chest to stop him moving also as he concentrated. Using his enhanced vision he searched the shadows. His eyes detected movement some distance away, someone was coming towards them. From what he could tell this was no ordinary someone, this was someone very tall and carrying something. He was almost surprised at the pace with which the person was walking but considering the length of strides the person took it seemed very much in place. It was a few more seconds before he could see the person clearly enough to distinguish them as a man and a very well built one at that.

Feeling his hand being pulled away he turned his head to look at Kit who had also caught of the stranger. Studying his companion's face in the shadow he saw recognition there, as if this was someone Kit knew. He was about to ask him if he did indeed know who the man coming towards them was but before he could even draw a breath Kit ran past him and further up the corridor. Having no other choice he followed but stopped short when he saw what or rather who the stranger was carrying.

He had found Robyn.

As soon as his nostrils were touched with the sweet smell of fresh blood he knew that something was wrong. Clamping his jaw he tried to stop his fangs from descending as he took a few steps further to the trio. Only he and the giant man a matter of feet away from him remained silent as Kit realised what had happened and tried to soothe Robyn from her reawakened fears.

She cried loudly, her sobs mingled with his as he took her from Ché's arms. Their agony filled the room and Nick could see the faintest streaks of tears on the giant's cheeks. His own eyes pricked with tears that he couldn't cry as the scene in front of him unfolded. For a moment his eyes met the giant's before he turned away, he felt guilty for not having arrived sooner. If they had come to this place first perhaps they would have saved from Robyn from her terrible fate, in his own guilt he had no idea of the shame felt by the man staring at his back.

They had eaten in silence, there had been no words to say as their mouths had been occupied with the food they savoured. She had watched him while they ate, his pallor had improved and she could see how the fruit had taken effect in him. Emotionally he hadn't changed, he still seemed distant but she was going to soon alter that. Putting her empty plate on the floor she took his from his lap and did the same. A questioning look crossed his face but she kissed it away. Pulling back she could see that it had worked and a completely different look had begun to grow.

Kissing him again she pushed him back so that he lay on the bed with herself on top of him. She pulled his hat off of his head and ran her fingers through his dishevelled hair. His fingers did the same to hers as they searched every inch of her head. As soon as he felt her move her hands from his hair to his clothes he pulled away from the kiss and tried to get up. Ellen understood this sign and stopped what she was doing before standing up and walking over to a window. Darkness had fallen and her eyes stared into its empty blackness. Hearing movement behind her she moved her eyes slightly and saw his image reflected in the glass against the lights inside. She felt him place a hand on her shoulder and turned around.

Cupping Ellen's chin gently in his hand Sportacus smiled weakly, "You didn't do anything wrong. Just give me two minutes and we can start again."

Ellen watched as he turned away and walked into the bathroom. Smiling slightly at this invitation she walked back over to his bed and sat down. True to his word he was two minutes in the bathroom before he returned. He was about to join her on the bed before she held up a finger and stopped him.

"Just let me get a little more comfortable first," She purred.

Sportacus smiled but his smile soon faded into a look of sheer horror as Ellen lifted a hand to her face and pulled what seemed to be a latex mask from her face and saw what had lay beneath it.

Lily.

Sheer terror gripped him as he took an involuntary step back, "I…I don't understand…Ellen? What have you done to her?"

"Don't you get it?" Lily hissed her face red with rage, "I _am_ Ellen, Ellen is me. And I have a score to settle."

END OF PART TWO

To be Continued…


End file.
